Secr
by Laddie252
Summary: ...
1. Chapter 1

Nick Merrick set a wide piece of flagstone into the sand,  
>shifting it back and forth to lock it in place. Despite the<br>late October chill in the air, the sun beat down on his back,  
>making him regret his long-sleeved black T-shirt. He pulled the<br>red Merrick Landscaping cap off his head to wipe sweat away  
>with his forearm. His hair was already damp, and he still had<br>half a path to finish.  
>He yanked the hat back on and fed some power into the air,<br>asking for a breeze.  
>The wind was overly happy to accommodate, sending a gust<br>through the trees to scatter leaves and blow sand into the grass.  
>Nick swore.<br>Quinn shivered and huddled down in her fleece pullover.  
>"Frigging wind."<br>Nick glanced at her. She was sitting on the slate stone bench  
>his older brother had installed yesterday. "Cold? Go sit in the<br>truck."  
>"But I'm helping you."<br>Nick smiled. She hadn't left the bench since they'd gotten  
>here. "Oh. Okay. I didn't realize you were helping."<br>"Not with the landscaping. I can barely pick those rocks up."  
>She turned to lie flat on the bench, letting long blond hair fall almost<br>to the grass. She stretched one leg up to the sky. Next she'd  
>be pulling it back toward her chest and putting her ankle next to<br>her ear. Crazy dancer. "I'm helping you keep up illusions."  
>Illusions. Nick lost the smile and flung another stone into<br>place. "Are you sure you're not avoiding going home?"  
>"Okay, so maybe we're helping each other."<br>He made a noncommittal noise and reached for another  
>stone.<br>"Seriously," said Quinn. "Your brother gave you crap for  
>bringing me along, didn't he?"<br>"Not really." And Michael hadn't. If Gabriel or Chris had  
>tried to drag a girl along on a job, Michael would have pitched a<br>fit. But Nick was the dependable one. When he'd mentioned that  
>Quinn was riding along, his older brother hadn't batted an eye.<br>Then again, Nick had told Michael a little about Quinn's epic  
>fights with her mom, which seemed to have gotten worse since<br>her family's home was destroyed in a fire. Maybe Michael was  
>cutting her some slack, too.<br>"Huh," said Quinn. "Maybe I should accidentally leave  
>panties in your room or something."<br>"You don't need to do that."  
>"You sound pissed."<br>Nick put another rock into place and rolled the tension from  
>his shoulders. "I'm not. I'm just . . . you don't need to go over<br>the top."  
>"Panties are over the top?"<br>He didn't even bother answering that.  
>"Come on," she said. "If you don't want your brothers to<br>know you're into guys, a little lingerie left in your bedroom  
>might be just the ticket."<br>Nick slammed another rock into the sand and didn't bother  
>answering that, either.<br>Quinn was relentless. "Have you seen Adam since that night  
>I caught you kissing?"<br>"No." At least not in reality. But Quinn's dance partner had  
>occupied nearly every waking moment of Nick's thoughts. And<br>a lot of the sleeping moments, too.  
>10 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Adam was the first—the only—boy he'd ever kissed.  
>Nick's brothers had no idea. They still thought he was infatuated<br>with Quinn. And Quinn was all too happy to keep up the  
>"illusion," as she put it.<br>"Have you talked to him?" Quinn pressed.  
>"No." But he read over Adam's last text message about<br>twenty times a day.  
>When you know what you want, I'll be right here.<br>Nick knew what he wanted, all right. He just wasn't sure he  
>wanted to want it. His life was already complicated enough. He<br>reached for another stone.  
>"He asked about you," said Quinn.<br>Nick dropped the stone on his fingers. He swore again and  
>flexed them to ease the pain. "Yeah?"<br>"He asked how you were doing."  
>Nick didn't say anything, just rocked the stone into place.<br>"Hmm," said Quinn. "What did I tell him about you . . . ?"  
>Nick's heart tripped and stumbled along. He waited.<br>And waited.  
>Finally, he looked up. "There's a pool around back. Don't<br>think I won't drop you in it."  
>Quinn smiled, but it was a little cautious, a little sad. "He<br>asked if you'd be coming with me to the studio anytime soon."  
>She meant the dance studio at the Y, where he'd first met<br>Adam. Nick enjoyed watching Quinn dance, and he loved the  
>way music coursed through the air to seep into his skin. Then<br>he'd seen Adam, and it was like a missing puzzle piece finally  
>snapped into place.<br>He'd loved watching Adam dance, too.  
>Nick grabbed a hand roller and flattened the next expanse of<br>sand. "I don't want to be a distraction."  
>"I think you need a little distraction."<br>"What does that mean?"  
>"It means you're completely stressed out." Quinn rolled off<br>SECRET 11  
>the bench and walked behind him, putting her hands on his<br>shoulders. She dug her thumbs into the muscles there. It almost  
>hurt, but it felt good, too, so he didn't stop her.<br>"Quinn, it's fine. I have a lot on my mind."  
>Like the fact that he and his brothers were still marked for<br>death for the Elemental abilities they struggled to control.  
>Or the fact that a bunch of younger Elementals had nearly<br>destroyed the town a week ago.  
>Or maybe that the Guide who'd come to town to kill them all<br>was sitting in a jail cell, and could be released at any time.  
>Not to mention the stack of college responses hidden in his<br>desk at home. Or his family's struggling landscaping business,  
>which was barely turning a profit now, to say nothing of getting<br>through the winter.  
>Oh, and the fact that he was gay, and one of the only two<br>people who knew was sitting right here ragging on him about it.  
>"Why don't you come to the studio tonight?" she said.<br>"I have a physics test tomorrow. I need to study."  
>"Please. Like you couldn't pass that in your sleep. And if you<br>really needed to study, why aren't your brothers doing this job?"  
>Nick shook her hands off and reached for another stone.<br>"Hannah was off tonight, and Mike needed a break. I offered."  
>"Of course you did." She paused. "And Gabriel? Chris?"<br>"Busy, and busy." His youngest brother, Chris, had plans  
>with his girlfriend. And Gabriel, his twin, was trying to catch up<br>on math so he could apply for firefighter school in the spring.  
>"Come on," said Quinn. "You know you want to."<br>He did want to. A lot.  
>A lot more than he wanted to admit.<br>Too complicated. He shook his head.  
>"Come on," said Quinn. "You could bring your textbook.<br>Wear some glasses. He'd probably think it was sexy."  
>Nick told himself to stop imagining it.<br>Quinn grinned. "Nicholas Merrick. You are blushing."  
>"Seriously. Pool. Out back. Get ready to be all wet."<br>"If you don't come with me, I'm going to tell him to stop pining,  
>because you're not interested."<br>12 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"You are not going to tell him that."<br>"Yes. I am. In fact—" She pulled out her cell phone. "I'm  
>going to tell him right now."<br>Her hands were flying across the keys. Nick was on his feet  
>yanking it out of her hands before he even knew he was moving.<br>She didn't fight him.  
>Then he looked down at what she'd typed. Not a message to<br>Adam. A message to him.  
>You deserve a break, too, Nick.<br>He sighed. "I don't know."  
>Her voice gentled. "I know you still like him." She paused.<br>"It's not a date. It's an hour in the studio."  
>An hour watching Adam dance. He'd almost come undone<br>the first time. But eager butterflies were hanging streamers for a  
>party in his stomach. "All right. I'll come with you."<br>"Yay!" She clapped.  
>"You seem overly enthusiastic. Like you said, it's an hour in<br>the studio. Nothing might happen."  
>"Oh, it's not that." She smiled sweetly. "Really, I needed a<br>ride."  
>Nick grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder. "That's it.<br>Pool."  
>She laughed. "You're excited. Come on. Admit it."<br>He set her on her feet, but didn't let her go. Up close, he could  
>look into the blue of her eyes. She was very pretty, with enough<br>curves to draw attention. She whined about being fat all the  
>time, but dance kept her body toned and muscled.<br>After catching him with Adam, she'd offered to continue  
>playing the role of his girlfriend. It let him keep his secret from<br>his brothers, but it also kept her from going out and meeting a  
>guy who would care about what she had to offer.<br>This whole setup was so wrong. "I hate using you," he said.  
>"Do you want to have an epic breakup?"<br>"You deserve to date a guy who likes you."  
>"So do you."<br>SECRET 13  
>Nick clamped his mouth shut and turned back to the path,<br>slapping the next stone into place.  
>"We can stop if you want," said Quinn. "I'll go back to<br>nightly screaming matches with my mother, you go back to  
>screwing easy girls so you look like a total player."<br>"Quinn. I was not—"  
>"Maybe you weren't sleeping with them, but you were using<br>them just the same." At his fierce look, she gave him one right  
>back. "They might not have known the truth about you, but it<br>doesn't make it any different."  
>"I wasn't using them."<br>"Yes. You were."  
>Yes. He was. Nick looked at the rock in his hands, then<br>shoved it into line with the others.  
>"It's not going to go away, Nick!" cried Quinn. "If you don't<br>want to pretend with me, that's fine. But it's not fair to pretend  
>with anyone else, either."<br>She was right. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.  
>"What are you thinking?" said Quinn. "That you'll break up<br>with me and find some new skank who'll keep your cover more  
>effectively?"<br>"Stop it."  
>"Fine. Go ahead. I'll go find my own ride." She stood and<br>stormed toward the road.  
>Nick caught her before she could get too far. Quinn had a history<br>of making poor decisions. Ending up unconscious on the  
>beach with a few drunken bikers was only the most recent. She<br>was lucky he'd found her before anything else could happen.  
>"Stop," he said. "Stop."<br>He expected to find her expression distraught, but instead  
>she looked challenging. "Why are you stopping me?"<br>"Because you're my friend."  
>"You're mine, too." She reached up to give the brim of his<br>hat a yank. "Have you ever thought about just . . . telling your  
>brothers?"<br>He sighed and looked away. He thought about it all the time.  
>Then he'd remember the thousand-and-one locker room gay<br>14 Brigid Kemmerer  
>jokes he'd heard from his twin. He'd remember Gabriel's swift<br>and brutal judgment of anything new. Gabriel knew how to cut  
>right to the quick, and this felt so fragile and untested that Nick<br>was afraid to bare skin in the face of that blade.  
>Then there was Michael, overworked and overwrought,<br>who'd said last week that he couldn't handle one more complication  
>in their lives. Nick did the bookkeeping for their landscaping<br>business—they could practically reach out and touch  
>their bottom line.<br>That left Chris, brooding and distant, who might be okay  
>with it—or he might not.<br>They couldn't afford discord right now.  
>"Things at home—they're complicated . . ." he started. Then<br>he caught her eyes. His things at home had nothing on hers. "I  
>don't want to rock the boat," he finally said.<br>"What about Hunter?" she said. "Are you guys still sharing a  
>room?"<br>"Yeah, until we figure out a new sleeping arrangement. And  
>seriously, you think I should start with my roommate, who, gee,<br>happens to be my twin brother's best friend? You're right,  
>Quinn. That's a great idea." He left her and went back to the<br>path. At least slinging flagstone gave him a way to work off  
>frustration.<br>Quinn came back to the bench and resumed stretching. "Is  
>that weird for you? Sharing a room with a guy?"<br>"I shared a room with Gabriel for the first twelve years of my  
>life."<br>"That's not what I mean, and you know it."  
>Nick rolled more sand flat. "No," he said, his tone resigned.<br>"It's not weird. At least not for me."  
>"You think it would be for him?"<br>Nick had no idea. He didn't say anything.  
>"Tell me," said Quinn. "Does he have tattoos and piercings<br>all over his body, or what? Though I can't decide whether that  
>would be hot or disgusting—"<br>Nick threw a handful of sand at her.  
>But really, he had no answer. He was so well practiced in the<br>SECRET 15  
>art of Do Not Look at Other Guys that he kept his head in a<br>book anytime Hunter was even in the room.  
>And Hunter totally wasn't his type anyway.<br>"I'll stop pushing," said Quinn.  
>"Thank you."<br>"But you're definitely coming tonight."  
>He sighed.<br>"Oh, you can't back out now. I already texted Adam that  
>you'll be there."<br>His head swung around. "You what?"  
>"He's looking forward to it. See?" She held up her phone.<br>A smiley face.  
>A smiley face? Nick had no idea what that meant. Was that<br>casual happy? Excited happy? An obligatory response that didn't  
>mean anything? It wasn't even a D smiley. It was one of the<br>parenthesis ones.  
>God, he was trying to puzzle out the hidden meaning of the<br>punctuation in a frigging emoticon.  
>"You look nervous," said Quinn.<br>He shrugged.  
>She got down on her knees next to him in the grass. "Don't<br>be nervous," she said quietly. "He really likes you, Nick."  
>Nick knew that.<br>And that was the problem. He really liked him back.  
>Quinn thought Nick Merrick was the best boyfriend in the<br>world.  
>He'd been pretty sweet before she found out he was gay, but<br>now . . . now she knew he liked her for her, when all the other  
>guys she'd ever dated took every opportunity to get into her<br>pants.  
>It seemed fitting that the best relationship in her life would be<br>just as dysfunctional as all her other ones. Her alcoholic mother.  
>Her more-absent-than-not father. Her stoner older brother and<br>her video game–obsessed younger brother. The cheerleaders  
>who hated her, the dance team that didn't want her—if a gay<br>boyfriend was the best she could do, she'd take it.  
>16 Brigid Kemmerer<br>He worried he was using her—well, she worried she was using  
>him. Hanging out with Nick gave her an opportunity to avoid<br>her own family. And Becca, too, if you got right down to it.  
>Quinn didn't resent losing her best friend to Chris Merrick.<br>Much.  
>"You're quiet," said Nick.<br>Quinn glanced over. He was driving the landscaping truck  
>with one hand on the wheel, the other arm across the seat backs.<br>For one second, she regretted the whole gay thing and wished  
>she could curl up against him, let his arm wrap around her<br>shoulder and make her feel wanted.  
>Then she told that moment of longing to shove it.<br>"I was thinking about Becca," she said.  
>"She and Chris seem to be getting pretty serious." He seemed<br>amused.  
>She snorted. "Like a heart attack."<br>He was silent for a moment. "You guys aren't hanging out  
>much lately?"<br>Nick could always see right through her. Quinn shrugged.  
>"It's fine. I'm glad she's happy."<br>"And you sound so sincere about it."  
>Quinn hit him on the arm. "No. I am. I just . . . miss her, you<br>know? And I'm . . ."  
>Jealous. She was jealous.<br>But she couldn't say that.  
>"It's fine," she said. "I shouldn't have brought up Becca.<br>She's just spending all this time with Chris, and I get it, but she  
>doesn't talk to me anymore. I don't think she's hiding something,<br>but it's almost like she's got this new life that I'm not a  
>part of. If that makes any sense."<br>Nick sighed. "Yeah, Quinn, it actually makes a lot of sense." He  
>hit the turn signal for their street. "Did you tell Becca about me?"<br>"Of course not! God, what kind of friend do you think I am?"  
>He held up a hand. "I'm just saying—maybe you both have<br>secrets."  
>"Maybe."<br>He dropped his arm to give her half a hug—totally platonic,  
>SECRET 17<br>and nothing she really wanted. But she took the comfort all the  
>same.<br>"You're a good friend," he said. "That's the kind I think  
>you are."<br>Quinn straightened and studied him. Nick really was a  
>looker—all dark hair and blue eyes and broad shoulders. Muscled<br>arms from all the landscaping. Just enough freckles sprinkled  
>across those high cheekbones to make him look boyish and<br>charming.  
>Then again, his twin brother had those same freckles, and<br>there was nothing boyish and charming about him.  
>"Actually," Nick said slowly, "it's probably time I should tell<br>you another secret—" He broke off, his voice hardening to steel.  
>"Damn it."<br>Quinn followed his gaze. They were turning up his driveway,  
>and a blond guy was making his way down the walk from their<br>house. The guy looked pissed.  
>"Who's that?" she said.<br>"Tyler Morgan. He's an asshole." Nick threw the truck into  
>park and hesitated there, glaring at the guy as he walked toward<br>them.  
>Tyler's expression was full of fury. He said something, but<br>Quinn couldn't hear him over the diesel engine with the windows  
>closed.<br>Then Nick killed the engine just as Tyler turned his gaze on  
>Quinn.<br>"—with your stupid, white trash girlfriend," he finished.  
>Quinn froze. Oh no, he did not.<br>"Wait here," said Nick.  
>No way was she waiting here. Quinn threw herself out of the<br>truck. This Tyler guy was a lot bigger than he'd looked when  
>she was sitting in the cab of the pickup, but he could be fifty feet<br>tall and she wouldn't give a crap.  
>"What did you just call me?" she demanded.<br>Nick appeared at her side. "Quinn, go in the house."  
>Tyler sneered down at her—a shame, because he might be<br>18 Brigid Kemmerer  
>kind of attractive if he weren't trying so hard to look like a<br>prick. "You heard me. I called you a stupid—"  
>Quinn punched him.<br>She shocked the hell out of him, too. He was probably one of  
>those jerks who thought girls roamed the earth for nothing<br>more than his pleasure. But she'd been holding her own for  
>years, and the punch knocked him back. She knew how to<br>swing, and she sure as hell wasn't holding back with this tool.  
>"At least trashy girls know how to hit." She drew back a fist<br>to hit him again.  
>Nick got hold of her. "Jesus, Quinn. Stop it."<br>"That's right," said Tyler, his voice a little nasal. "I forgot  
>you Merrick douche bags like to let your girls fight for you."<br>"Get the hell out of here," said Nick. He had a death grip on  
>her arms, his hands full of tension. The air was suddenly ice<br>cold.  
>"Let me go," she said. "I want to make sure he can't pass on<br>his genes."  
>"No worries, blondie. Seeing you is enough to turn me off<br>forever."  
>"Right back atcha, dickhead," Quinn snapped.<br>Then Tyler stepped toward her, drawing back a fist. She  
>sucked back into Nick.<br>But Tyler stopped there. He smirked. "Yeah, all you girls  
>think you're so tough, but then you can't take—"<br>His words cut short like he ran out of breath. No puffs of  
>steam escaped from his mouth, though hers and Nick's were<br>going a mile a minute. Tyler shook his head fiercely, and then  
>put a hand to his throat.<br>His eyes started to bug out, and he dropped to a knee.  
>Had he inhaled a fly? Was he choking? What was happening?<br>"Get out of here, Tyler." Nick's voice was quiet, low and full  
>of intensity. "No deal, nothing to stop me. Understand?"<br>Quinn had no idea what that meant, but Tyler was on his  
>knees, suffocating on nothing. Nick's hands were gripping her<br>arms so tightly she could feel faint tremors, belying the strength  
>in his voice.<br>SECRET 19  
>Was Nick afraid of this guy?<br>She kicked Tyler. "Yeah, asshole. Get out of here."  
>He nodded hard, his hand pulling at his throat now.<br>And then he was gasping, coughing, his hands on the pavement.  
>"Come on," said Nick, letting her go but taking her hand to<br>drag her with him. Probably making sure she didn't lay into  
>Tyler again.<br>"Don't be stupid," Tyler choked from behind them. "I only  
>came here to talk."<br>"Sure you did." Nick dragged her up the steps to the front  
>door, then jammed his key in the lock.<br>"What really happened at the carnival last week?" Tyler  
>yelled. "I heard the news about pentagrams. Another Guide<br>came here, didn't he?"  
>Nick ignored him and hauled her through the door, then<br>slammed it, throwing the deadbolt for good measure.  
>Then he put his head against the door and unclenched his<br>fists.  
>Quinn stared at him. Their breath still fogged in the air as if<br>the heat in the house wasn't working. Gooseflesh had sprung up  
>along her forearms, and she shivered. "You want to tell me<br>what just happened there?"  
>"Yeah." Nick turned his head to look at her. "That's the rest<br>of my secret."


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn sat backward on Nick's desk chair and watched him  
>fidget. He was sitting on the end of his bed, twisting his<br>ball cap between his hands. A sudden noise would probably  
>send him sky high.<br>No one else saw this side of Nicholas Merrick. She'd always  
>thought he had his life perfectly in order, with a college plan and<br>a handle on everything. When they'd first started dating, she'd  
>thought she'd finally found the perfect boy to latch on to.<br>Then she'd caught him kissing Adam, and there went that.  
>"I'm still waiting for your secret," she whispered mockingly.<br>His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "I know." He paused, running  
>a hand through his hair. "I've never told anyone, and I'm<br>not sure where to start."  
>"Wait. Don't tell me. You're gay."<br>He flung the hat at her. Quinn uncurled it and pulled it on her  
>head backward. "Why don't you tell me about the idiot in your<br>driveway. His name is Tyler?"  
>"Tyler Morgan." He hesitated. "His parents hated my parents.<br>So much that Tyler grew up hating us. He used to go to  
>school with Michael, but he's a few years younger." Another<br>pause. "Tyler used to have a sister named Emily. She was in  
>Michael's class. She died in the old rock quarry south of Severna<br>Park. There was a rock slide and she drowned."  
>"When?"<br>"Five years ago. I don't know a lot of the details, but Tyler  
>thinks Michael had something to do with it."<br>Quinn sat up straight. "Holy shit. Like . . . how? Like he built  
>a bomb or something?"<br>Nick shook his head quickly. "No—nothing like that.  
>Michael has . . . he has . . . we have this affinity for the—" He<br>cut himself off and rolled his eyes. "Jesus, this is impossible.  
>Everything sounds ridiculous, and I want you to believe me."<br>She studied him, trying to puzzle this out for herself.  
>She was coming up with nothing.<br>Abruptly Nick stood and seized her by the hand. "Come on.  
>We need to go outside. This will work better with show-andtell."<br>He trudged through the woods, dragging her behind him. She  
>could feel the tension in his grip. Whatever his secret was, it had<br>him keyed up. The sun had already begun to dip behind the  
>horizon, letting a chill seep into the air.<br>"Keep walking," he said. "I need some distance from the  
>neighborhood."<br>"Your secret is in the woods?" said Quinn, shivering. "Dude,  
>if you turn into a werewolf, I am outta here."<br>He smiled, then stopped and turned to face her. "I'm not a  
>werewolf."<br>"Vampire? Alien?" She snapped her fingers. "Harry Potter.  
>Or wait, you'd be one of the Weasley twins . . ."<br>"If you could shut up a second, I'd tell you."  
>"Should I hold your hands? Are we going to phase out and<br>appear in Narnia?"  
>"No." He glanced around. "If any trees fall, I don't want<br>them to hit a house."  
>Trees falling? What? "So you're secretly Paul Bunyan?"<br>"Quinn."  
>She shivered again. "What? Seriously, Nick, what's out<br>here?"  
>"Air." As he said the word, the breeze kicked up, finding a<br>22 Brigid Kemmerer  
>true wind that ruffled his hair and swirled between them. Leaves<br>shifted and rustled along the ground.  
>Quinn frowned. "Air?"<br>Nick nodded. His expression said that she was missing something  
>important.<br>But . . . air? Air was everywhere.  
>Leaves lifted from the ground and began to spiral around<br>their feet. She started to shiver again—but then the leaves  
>swirled off the ground, forming a moving wall to enclose them.<br>First two feet high, then three, then eye level.  
>Quinn felt the first lick of fear. She moved closer to him—<br>then wondered if that was worse than moving away. "You're  
>freaking me out a little, Nick. Is the mother ship landing?"<br>"Relax." He spoke gently, confidently. "It's just wind."  
>She stepped away from him, but not too far. The swirling<br>leaves remained out of her reach, and the wind caught her blond  
>hair and tossed it across her face. "Are you doing this?"<br>"Yes."  
>"How?"<br>"I'm feeding it energy."  
>She looked at him again. "I don't understand."<br>"I can control air. Wind. Atmosphere. Whatever you want to  
>call it." He paused. "That's how I choked Tyler."<br>Quinn put a hand out. Leaves caught against her palm immediately,  
>crumbling before getting swept into the maelstrom<br>again. It wasn't enough to disturb this mini-tornado. A bare  
>path appeared on the ground where the wind continued to whip<br>in a circle.  
>"You're telling me you're doing this all by yourself?" said<br>Quinn. "No machine? No—"  
>"All me," he said. "But the wind is willing."<br>She turned to look at him again. "Okay. Make it stop."  
>He didn't move, but she felt the change. The wind in the<br>clearing died. Leaves spun wildly and fluttered to the ground.  
>Quinn jammed her hands in her pockets and stood a few feet<br>back from him. Her brain couldn't wrap itself around this  
>SECRET 23<br>quickly enough. She wasn't sure she wanted to believe him yet.  
>This was a little too . . . weird. "So . . . what? Your brother blew<br>that girl off a cliff?"  
>Nick's eyes widened. "What? No. He's not—Michael's not an<br>Air. He's an Earth."  
>Quinn licked her lips. "Do I need a twenty-sided die here,<br>Nick?"  
>"Would you stop making jokes? I'm trying to explain this to<br>you, and you're—"  
>"Freaked out." She took another step back from him, looking<br>at the leaves that had fluttered to the ground. Nothing abnormal,  
>no sign of any device that could have done . . . that.<br>Nick studied her. "Do you have your iPod?"  
>That was like asking if she'd brought her boobs along. Quinn<br>fished it out of her pocket and held it out.  
>Nick shook his head. "You listen. Dance. Do that one you<br>were doing the night I picked you up at the Y."  
>When the hell had Nick Merrick gone insane? "You want me<br>to dance right now?"  
>He nodded, looking perfectly serious.<br>"But you won't hear the music."  
>"I want to show you something."<br>Quinn hesitated, figured she had nothing to lose, and plugged  
>the buds into her ears. She had to close her eyes to shut out<br>Nick's searching face, but once the music caught her, he could  
>have been an alien and she wouldn't have cared.<br>She didn't remember all the details of this routine, but Nick  
>wouldn't know the difference, and she was good at improvisation.<br>Her weeks of studying with Adam had made her stronger,  
>more balanced, and she could feel the difference even in something<br>unpracticed. Her legs carried her through spins and leaps  
>more effortlessly. She spun and dropped and flung her body into<br>the rhythm, every movement punctuated perfectly.  
>Then she felt it. The air changed, as if the music could suddenly<br>seep into her skin. Her movements had more energy, more  
>control, and each time her feet left the ground, she felt vaguely<br>24 Brigid Kemmerer  
>like a marionette, suspended for just a fraction of a second too<br>long—but effortlessly.  
>The dance changed against her will, turning from something<br>she was doing with the music into something she was doing because  
>of the music, as if the very song animated her body. Her<br>next leap left her in the air for a moment too long. She almost  
>lost the beat, and spun to find it. One foot, pivot, step, leap.<br>This time her height, her suspension in the air, was downright  
>inhuman.<br>She stumbled on the landing, from shock more than anything.  
>Nick caught her, his hands warm and steadying on her elbows.<br>Quinn braced her hands on his chest, unsure whether she  
>should shove him away or not. Her breaths came quick.<br>Frightened. She was frightened. She'd felt his power in the air.  
>Exactly how high had she gotten?<br>She yanked the earbuds free. "Did you do that?" she demanded.  
>His expression was guarded, but he nodded. "Yes."<br>She didn't say anything for the longest moment, letting her  
>breathing settle.<br>She could still hear the song, tinny and distant from the headphones.  
>Music was in the air, drawing at her limbs. Not frightening.<br>Exhilarating.  
>Quinn grinned. "Can you do it again?"<br>An hour later, Quinn was sprawled on his bed, watching  
>Nick rifle through a dresser drawer. She'd learned about his<br>brothers, how they were marked for death because of their abilities.  
>She'd learned about their deal with Tyler's family to keep<br>the Merricks hidden from discovery—a deal that created a rift  
>in the Elemental community, putting the Merricks on one side,<br>and the Morgans on the other. She'd learned about the rockslide  
>that had killed Tyler Morgan's sister, right in front of Michael<br>Merrick.  
>She knew about the Guides who'd tried to kill him and his<br>SECRET 25  
>brothers more than once—and who would try again, when they<br>had the chance.  
>The front door slammed downstairs, and Quinn sat up on the<br>bed. One or more of his brothers were home. She slid her phone  
>out of her pocket and wanted to tell Nick to get the lead out.<br>But he was so adorably anxious about seeing Adam that she  
>didn't want to rush him. "I think I always knew there was something<br>about you," she said.  
>He didn't glance up. "Yeah?"<br>"That suffocation thing—you did that to Gabriel once, didn't  
>you? That day I made you dinner and he came home acting like<br>a real shit?"  
>Nick's hands went still. "Yeah."<br>He sounded ashamed. Quinn snorted. "Too bad you didn't  
>follow through."<br>He turned to look at her. "It's not a game, Quinn. I could  
>have lost control."<br>"Well, you sure didn't seem to mind using it on Tyler."  
>Nick turned away and shoved the drawer closed with a bang,<br>moving on to the next one.  
>Quinn came and crouched next to him. His hair was still<br>slightly damp from a shower—which he'd taken alone, despite  
>her offer to keep up appearances—and he smelled slightly sweet<br>and musky at the same time, like one of those guy-brand body  
>washes.<br>"What's up?" she said. "You okay?"  
>He turned his head to look at her. "I hate that guy."<br>"Really? I didn't get that from the warm welcome you gave  
>him in the driveway."<br>"I don't want to talk about Tyler." He slammed another  
>drawer and moved on to the bottom one.<br>"What are you looking for?" she asked quietly.  
>"Something that doesn't make me look like I spent twenty<br>minutes doing exactly this."  
>"Are you sure you don't have a spandex suit under those<br>clothes?"  
>26 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"I do, in fact. Little surprise for later."  
>Quinn snorted. "What you're wearing is fine." And it was: a<br>soft blue T-shirt that clung to his body and made his eyes almost  
>vibrant.<br>"Are you nervous about what you told me? You said you  
>were in danger."<br>He gave up on rummaging through the drawer. "We are.  
>We're always at risk of someone coming to town to kill us all."<br>"The Guides, right?"  
>"Yeah. But we try to keep our heads down and not reveal our<br>talents. That's one of the rules: we have to demonstrate our abilities  
>to earn a death sentence. When we were younger, Tyler and<br>Seth used to beat the shit out of us to try to force us to use our  
>powers, but we're stronger now and they mostly stay away."<br>Until this afternoon, she thought. But then she picked up on  
>what Nick had said, that Tyler and Seth used to beat the shit out<br>of them. Like his twin brother, Nick was tall, and landscaping  
>gave his body some solid definition. She couldn't imagine anyone<br>beating the shit out of him—but then again, if everything  
>he'd told her was true, maybe he'd been afraid to fight back.<br>"I just don't understand why," said Quinn. "What do they  
>care?"<br>Nick glanced over. "We scare them."  
>"They're scared of a little breeze?"<br>"Remember Homecoming? Remember the tornado that  
>formed over the soccer field? Ripped out a few trees?"<br>"Yeah?"  
>Nick gave her a significant look.<br>"No way," she said.  
>"Way." He grimaced. "I lost control of it. Ended up breaking<br>my leg in three places."  
>More events were clicking into place. "You said you threw<br>out your knee playing soccer."  
>"It made for a good cover story." He looked away from her<br>eyes. "Air is everywhere. I heal fast."  
>"Can you fly?"<br>SECRET 27  
>She couldn't keep the hushed wonder from her voice, and<br>Nick smiled. "No. Too much weight. I can't focus the air pressure  
>enough for that."<br>"What does air pressure have to do with anything?"  
>"Are you kidding? Air pressure is awesome."<br>She rolled her eyes. "You are such a nerd sometimes. You're  
>lucky you're hot or you couldn't get away with saying things<br>like air pressure is awesome."  
>"Seriously. Air pressure affects everything. Haven't you ever<br>heard the expression nature abhors a vacuum?" He grinned.  
>"Actually, we were doing this experiment in class once where<br>Dr. Cutter was trying to prove a point with a balloon, but I kept  
>making it pop—"<br>"You are the only person alive who would use superpowers  
>to be more dorky."<br>"They're not superpowers."  
>That sounded a lot like the difference between to-MAY-to<br>and to-MAH-to to Quinn. "Would it be okay if I told Becca?"  
>Nick hesitated. He lost the smile.<br>She rushed on. "I know it's your secret. I don't have to tell her.  
>I—well, she's dating Chris, too, so maybe he could tell her . . ."<br>She stopped. "What? What's that expression?"  
>"Becca knows," Nick said gently.<br>"Becca knows," said Quinn. "Like . . . how long?"  
>"Since that party at Drew McKay's house. Tyler and Seth<br>came after Chris, and chased him and Becca into the water." He  
>hesitated. "According to Chris, he lost control of the current.<br>She almost drowned. He dragged her out."  
>Quinn sat up straight, rotating to face him from the bench<br>seat. "Becca almost drowned and she didn't tell me?"  
>"Quinn—she couldn't tell you. Knowing our secret—it's not<br>a good thing. It makes you a target. It puts you in danger."  
>That sounded like a whole lot of bullshit. Quinn used to tell<br>Becca everything. Everything. "Then why did you tell me?"  
>"Because you're my friend. I wanted you to know." He<br>paused. "And you kept my other secret."  
>Quinn felt herself softening.<br>28 Brigid Kemmerer  
>The floor creaked in the hallway.<br>Quinn shoved Nick in the shoulder. He was off balance and  
>rocked back, sitting down hard on the carpet.<br>Quinn was in his lap before he could move, her hand pulling  
>at the hem of his shirt and her mouth latched on to his neck.<br>Nick sucked in a breath and grabbed her waist, but then  
>Gabriel spoke from the doorway.<br>"I'd tell you two to get a room, but at least close the door."  
>Nick froze. Quinn lifted a hand to give his twin the finger.<br>She didn't take her mouth off Nick's neck.  
>God, he smelled good.<br>"Classy," said Gabriel. He was already moving down the  
>hallway.<br>Quinn straightened and let go of Nick's shirt. "You're welcome."  
>He gave her a look. "If there's a hickey on my neck, I'm going<br>to kill you."  
>She patted him on the cheek. "Come on, Romeo. Maybe<br>you'll get a chance to get one from Adam."


	3. Chapter 3

Nick studied the sign over the door to the dance studio. The  
>last time he'd seen Adam and Quinn dance, they'd been<br>using the back room of the relatively deserted local YMCA.  
>Now it was a real dance studio, with real dancers, and a parking<br>lot full of real cars.  
>Meaning real people. Real people who might know him.<br>His head had been full of all the family secrets he'd revealed  
>to Quinn, but in an instant, he forgot about Tyler and anything<br>remotely Elemental.  
>"I don't think I can do this," said Nick.<br>"Whatever." Quinn didn't indulge him for one second. She  
>was out of the truck and through the door to the studio before<br>he got the key out of the ignition.  
>He sat in the silent vehicle, listening to the engine ticking.<br>Deliberating.  
>If a girl was waiting in there, he wouldn't hesitate. He could<br>flirt with girls without thinking about it, and they'd be lining up  
>to follow him home. He'd learned the opposite sex with the<br>same efficiency he learned physics or trigonometry: a system of  
>functions and formulas leading to a calculated result.<br>He had no idea what the result of this evening would be.  
>Worse, he didn't know what he wanted the result to be.<br>Quinn stuck her head back out the door. Her expression  
>spoke volumes.<br>Well. Really, just one sentence.  
>WTF are you doing?<br>Nick slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and dropped  
>out of the truck.<br>"I wish I could get this on video," Quinn said when he  
>stepped into the tiny lobby.<br>"What?" he asked.  
>"Nick Merrick, insecure. No wonder you're such a player."<br>"What does that mean?" he demanded.  
>"With girls, there are no stakes." She grabbed his hand.<br>"Come on. Adam's still teaching. You can catch the end of his  
>lesson."<br>"Wait—teaching?"  
>"He works here. How do you think we get to use this swank<br>studio?"  
>"But—"<br>She shushed him with a glare, dragging him down a narrow  
>hallway that opened into a huge studio. Parents were crowded<br>onto a few wooden risers along the back wall. Nick's gaze fell  
>on everything except the people in the center of the room.<br>Mirrors lined the longest wall, stretching from floor to ceiling  
>to make the room look twice as large as it was already. The opposite<br>wall was all windows blocked by sheer screens, letting the  
>last of the daylight in. A grand piano sat in the corner, next to a<br>massive stereo.  
>A dozen kids stood spaced across the hardwood floor, mostly<br>dressed in loose pants or stretchy shorts. Nine girls, three boys.  
>None was older than twelve or thirteen.<br>Adam stood in front of the mirror, facing the group.  
>Now that Nick's eyes had found him, they didn't want to<br>look away.  
>He'd worried that his imagination had built Adam into someone<br>who didn't exist, a memory of perfection that the real deal  
>couldn't match. But Adam's flawless skin still carried that warm<br>SECRET 31  
>caramel hue. His hair was still pitch dark. His eyes were still<br>brown and sparkling, his cheekbones still high. The same  
>sinewy muscles traced the lengths of his arms. He moved with<br>the same rhythm, as if a song played in his head.  
>He didn't notice Nick.<br>Well, he was occupied. Teaching. Even now, he was talking  
>about lines and balance and something about a firebird leap<br>combination.  
>But the room wasn't that big. His eyes had flicked in their direction<br>when Quinn climbed onto the back row of the risers—  
>but his gaze passed over Nick without recognition.<br>And now Nick was sitting here staring at him.  
>God, this was awkward.<br>In a flash, he understood the smiley in that text message.  
>Maybe Adam was okay with Nick coming along because he didn't<br>care anymore. And honestly, Nick couldn't blame him. Adam was  
>out. He was comfortable in his skin. He had an apartment and a<br>job and a life.  
>He wasn't hiding from his family and ignoring a stack of college<br>correspondence because he didn't want to deal with reality.  
>At least this was easier. Bringing the physics textbook had<br>been a good call. Nick slid his notebook out of the bag.  
>He wasn't fooling himself.<br>His chest felt tight. Breath fought its way into his lungs.  
>Adam might not have been watching him, but Nick felt like the<br>center of attention anyway, like everyone in this room could feel  
>his agitation, his insecurity, his disappointment.<br>He kept his head down over his notebook, but the rich timbre  
>of Adam's voice kept poking at the edges of his awareness.<br>Adam was a good teacher. Friendly. Engaging, making the kids  
>laugh as he counted off a routine and pointed out their errors.<br>His bare feet crossed the studio to stop in front of the stereo,  
>drawing Nick's eyes. He hit a button, and music swelled through<br>the room. Country, to Nick's surprise, lively guitar chords backed  
>by a strong bass line and a driving beat.<br>Then Adam returned to his spot in front of the mirror and  
>counted off the same beat, leading his students into a routine.<br>32 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Nick's breath caught. Music always rode the air until he felt<br>each beat through his whole body. But the air here was full of  
>energy that sparked and rejoiced with the melody. Nick could<br>practically thread his fingers through the notes. He fed a bit of  
>power to the air, getting it back in spades. The students leapt<br>higher, their movements matching the beat perfectly, invisible  
>streamers of sound-fed power weaving among them.<br>And Adam—he was magnificent. He moved like the music  
>lived inside him, as if Nick's power choreographed each motion.<br>When the last chord hit and they went still, the air in the  
>room waited, too, charged with potential.<br>Then the parents clapped.  
>Nick felt Quinn breathing beside him. "You did something,"<br>she whispered. "Didn't you?"  
>"I didn't mean to." And that was true. But facing Tyler in the<br>driveway, telling Quinn his secret, the wonder and fear and uncertainty  
>of coming here—all his emotions had rallied.<br>Adam was looking now. His chest rose and fell quickly.  
>All this power, and Nick had no idea what Adam was thinking.<br>Then Adam broke the eye contact and called his class to  
>order, dismissing them for the night.<br>Nick let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He  
>rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He'd left a sweaty<br>handprint along the spine of his physics book.  
>"Try not to do that while I'm dancing, okay?" said Quinn.<br>Before he could answer, she was climbing down from the risers,  
>stripping out of her sweatshirt, pushing through the crowd of<br>parents fighting for the exit.  
>Adam had disappeared into the hallway, too.<br>Damn.  
>Nick flung the textbook open on the bench and told himself<br>to get excited about mass and acceleration and inclined planes.  
>The room emptied, and when Quinn flicked on the stereo to<br>start warming up, Nick tried to convince himself he would've  
>been better off staying in the car.<br>His brain wasn't convinced. He didn't move.  
>The air told him when Adam walked into the room. Nick ig-<br>SECRET 33  
>nored the swirl in the currents, the minute temperature change<br>as his element reacted to his tension.  
>Study.<br>He tried. He read the same equation sixteen times. It could  
>have been written in crayon by a dyslexic toddler for all the<br>sense it made.  
>Adam walked over to the risers.<br>Nick's eyes froze on his textbook. Now he couldn't remember  
>what subject he was studying.<br>Adam put his hand on one of the wooden benches and leapt  
>to the upper level.<br>Nick had forgotten how he moved, like a jungle cat crossed  
>with an acrobat. Powerful yet agile. Instead of sitting beside<br>him, Adam sat cross-legged on the riser in front of him.  
>It left Nick looking down at him. The position was casual<br>and nonthreatening.  
>And kind of hot.<br>Nick told his eyes to stay on his frigging notebook, but they  
>found Adam's feet, following the line of his calves to his knees<br>and thighs and—  
>Up. Up. Look up, before you get yourself in trouble.<br>Nick looked at his face. The darkness of Adam's eyes, the  
>barely-there start of shadow across his jaw. The crooked scar<br>that dragged his lip away from perfection.  
>Nick flashed on what it had felt like to kiss him. He jerked<br>his gaze back to his book. "Hey."  
>Hey. Wow. Suave. Maybe Quinn should be videotaping this.<br>"What are you studying?" said Adam, his voice gently teasing,  
>almost provocative. It made him sound like he wasn't talking<br>about studying at all.  
>If it had been a girl, Nick could have flirted back. You, he<br>would have said.  
>Say it. Say it, say it, say it.<br>"Physics," he said instead.  
>Ugh. Suddenly he felt like such a dork. Next he'd say he<br>needed to get home to his bug collection.  
>He cleared his throat. "I enjoyed your class."<br>34 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Thanks. They're good kids." Adam paused. "Did you come<br>to watch Quinn?"  
>No, I came to watch you.<br>But he couldn't say it.  
>"Come on," Quinn called from the floor. "You guys can<br>make out later. Let's get this done."  
>Nick slammed his textbook closed. "Damn, Quinn."<br>Adam uncurled from the bench. He was smiling. "I forgot  
>you were such an easy blush."<br>"Yeah, yeah."  
>Adam started to move away, but then he paused and leaned<br>back to whisper. "It'll make for interesting conversation later."  
>Nick studied the whole time Adam and Quinn rehearsed.<br>No. That wasn't true.  
>He pretended to stare at his textbook the whole time. In reality,<br>he never turned a page, he never took a note, and he didn't  
>take his eyes off Adam.<br>This was ridiculous. Any minute now, he'd be doodling  
>hearts down the margin of his notebook.<br>An easy blush. He wasn't usually. But he could feel his cheeks  
>warming just thinking of Adam's last comment.<br>He wasn't the only one blushing, either. Some younger girls  
>were clustered and giggling in the doorway, whispering about<br>Adam.  
>Nick couldn't blame them. Adam and Quinn made an eyecatching<br>pair as they spun across the floor. His dark hair and  
>olive skin seemed to shadow her blue-eyed-blond-peaches-andcream<br>complexion. Nick wondered if Adam played to that, if  
>he'd choreographed the dance to highlight their differences.<br>The routine was powerful, putting Quinn in the air as often  
>as she was on the ground. She'd told Nick she was trying to live<br>on lettuce and saltines to spare Adam's biceps.  
>From where Nick was sitting, said biceps did not need sparing.<br>He forced his attention on Quinn. He'd seen the first incarnations  
>of this dance a few weeks ago, when Quinn and Adam had<br>scraped it together in the back room of the Y. Quinn had been  
>SECRET 35<br>awkward, trying to keep up with Adam's polished movements.  
>But she'd been working hard—now her motions looked like a<br>perfect extension of his.  
>The air liked their partnership. He could feel their energy in<br>the atmosphere like an electric current through water.  
>It was good to see Quinn focused on something positive.<br>By the time they killed the lights in the studio and Adam was  
>locking up, it was after ten. Nick told himself he could force<br>physics lessons into his brain when he got home. It wasn't that  
>late yet.<br>Then Adam said, "Want to grab a cup of coffee?"  
>He should refuse. It was late enough, and he had Mike's<br>truck.  
>Then again, Michael would never give him a hard time about<br>staying out. He probably wasn't even concerned. Nick never did  
>anything wrong.<br>But coffee would be public. Would Quinn come? Did he want  
>her to?<br>"Don't worry about it," said Adam, his voice easy. "I didn't  
>mean to throw you into an existential crisis. It's all right."<br>"No! I want to. It's—yeah. Coffee. Yes."  
>"Maybe decaf," said Quinn. Nick shot her a look.<br>She yawned. "What? Drop me at home first. I need to crash."  
>So he'd be alone with Adam.<br>Normally it took fifteen minutes to get Quinn across town.  
>Tonight it seemed to take three-point-two seconds. Nick was very<br>aware of his fake-girlfriend sitting between him and Adam, providing  
>a buffer of estrogen and snark and pretend heterosexuality.<br>When he couldn't seem to generate any better than one-word answers,  
>she turned her attention to Adam, prattling about the routine<br>and Adam's audition and their practice schedule for the rest  
>of the week.<br>In her parking lot, Nick hoped she'd want a walk up to her  
>apartment, if only to give him another minute for his nerves to<br>settle.  
>But she didn't ask and didn't linger, and before he knew it,<br>36 Brigid Kemmerer  
>she was gone, climbing the stairs and disappearing through her<br>door. The air in the cab was chilled from Nick's anxiety, but not  
>enough to make his breath fog—yet. He kicked the heat up a<br>notch and backed out of the parking place. Once they were  
>moving again, Nick focused on the road more closely than he<br>had in driver's ed. They drove in silence for a minute.  
>That left too much time for thinking, and really, he wanted to<br>turn his brain off.  
>He cleared his throat. "Starbucks?"<br>"Your call."  
>Adam's voice was so calm, so sure. Nick glanced over at the<br>next stoplight. While he felt like the slightest noise would send  
>him shooting out of his skin, Adam looked relaxed, loosely<br>coiled in the passenger seat. Streetlights reflected off his hair and  
>eyes, sparking with gold.<br>"Relax," he said softly.  
>Nick let out a breath. "Sorry."<br>Adam's smile turned a little wicked. "We're having coffee  
>there, not getting naked."<br>Nick nearly jumped the curb pulling into the parking lot.  
>Adam laughed.<br>Even this late at night, the Starbucks was packed, and they  
>moved to the back of the line. Nick worried that Adam would<br>hang close or drop quasi-sexual banter, but he kept his distance,  
>and his conversation barely strayed from the mundane. Questions<br>about school, about Quinn, about the weather they were  
>having.<br>Worse, now that Adam was doing what Nick thought he  
>wanted—what he thought he needed, this safe distance—Nick<br>found himself missing the charged teasing, the blushing, the  
>warmth of Adam's breath on his neck when he whispered things<br>about later.  
>The air in the restaurant changed, enough that Nick froze. It<br>didn't feel threatening, just watchful. He looked around, shuffling  
>forward when the person in front of him moved ahead to<br>order.  
>SECRET 37<br>Danger? he thought, seeking answers from the air.  
>But the air only carried the scents of ground coffee. Nick<br>took a second look, trying to be discreet about it.  
>Silver was in prison. The middle school Elementals had been<br>convinced to lie low. Calla was missing, but this didn't feel like  
>a Fire Elemental.<br>Then the sensation was gone, so subtly that Nick wondered if  
>he'd really felt it at all.<br>The barista gave him a bright smile when they made it to  
>the counter. "One of the Merrick twins," she said. "Which one<br>are you?"  
>Nick blinked, surprised, then realized he knew her from<br>school. Cute, with almond-shaped eyes, carefully highlighted  
>hair, and clothes just tight enough to get a second glance from<br>most guys. Courtney or Carrie or something.  
>Nick felt himself sliding into the familiar, doing what was expected.<br>He had to, or people might talk. He returned her flirtatious  
>smile and gave her their typical twin line. "Does it<br>matter?"  
>She gave him a mock pout and probably thought she looked<br>sexy. It did absolutely nothing for him. "What's going in your  
>cup?" she said.<br>He met her eyes and gave it right back. "Surprise me."  
>"Something hot and sweet coming right up."<br>"Make the same for me, sugar," said Adam.  
>While she smiled and grabbed a second cup, Adam leaned<br>close enough to whisper to Nick. "I can play this game, too."  
>He was teasing, but Nick felt the undercurrent of . . . something<br>else. Admonishment? Sadness? Disappointment? All three?  
>Before he could puzzle it out, Adam drew back and pulled out his<br>wallet.  
>"I've got it," said Nick.<br>"No way. You're doing me a favor. I got it."  
>"A favor?"<br>"Giving me a ride home."  
>Oh.<br>Nick felt like he was stumbling through his evening, and every  
>38 Brigid Kemmerer<br>step was wrong. When Courtney-Carrie-Whatever handed them  
>their cups, he could barely get it together to thank her.<br>She'd written her number on the cardboard sleeve. Along  
>with her name—Courtnie—with a big heart over the I.<br>"Ready to go?" said Adam.  
>"Yeah. I—" Nick hesitated, not even sure what he was going<br>to say. "Yeah. I'm ready."  
>Their breaths fogged when they stepped outside. After the<br>warmth and bustle of the Starbucks, the sudden silence closed in  
>around Nick.<br>"I'm not chasing you off," said Adam. "I just knew we couldn't  
>talk in there."<br>"Okay." Nick thought he should apologize, but he couldn't  
>quite nail down why. The truck rumbled to life, and he reached<br>out to twirl the dials to get the heat going again. Cinnamon and  
>vanilla wafted from the paper cups to filter through the cab,<br>warm scents that pulled some of the tension from his shoulders.  
>"So what's it feel like?" said Adam.<br>"What's what feel like?"  
>"The back wall of that closet you've buried yourself inside."<br>His voice wasn't unkind, but Nick heard an echo of what  
>he'd felt inside the coffee shop. Not quite judgment. But almost.<br>Nick wrapped his hands around his cup and inhaled the  
>steam. "It sucks." He paused. "Sorry—in there—"<br>"It's all right. You don't have to apologize." A hesitation.  
>"Your family still doesn't know?"<br>Nick shook his head.  
>"But you came to the studio."<br>"Yeah."  
>Adam took a drink of his coffee and stared out the windshield,<br>a musing smile on his face. "When I saw you walk in  
>with Quinn, I almost forgot what I was teaching."<br>"I didn't think you noticed."  
>As soon as he said the words, Nick wished he could kick himself.<br>He sounded sulky, for god's sake. Sulky.  
>Adam didn't let it go, either. His smile widened. "Don't you<br>worry. I noticed."  
>SECRET 39<br>Nick busied himself with backing out of the parking space,  
>grateful for the darkness, because he was sure heat sat on his<br>cheeks again. But then he got to the edge of the lot and sat there,  
>wondering where to go.<br>If Adam invited him back to his apartment, he had no idea  
>what he'd say. An invitation equaled an opportunity to say no.<br>A choice. Making one decision led to more complicated ones.  
>Worse, he felt Adam watching him, probably deliberating over<br>the same thing.  
>But Adam didn't offer an invitation. "My place," he said<br>firmly. "Drive."


	4. Chapter 4

Adam's place looked exactly like Nick remembered. A simple  
>one-bedroom walkout in the basement of an apartment<br>building. No television, but three packed bookcases and an impressive  
>stereo took up the main wall. Nothing else was noteworthy:<br>a small kitchen with a two-seater table tucked in the  
>corner, a tiny bathroom, and a bedroom dwarfed by the queen<br>bed crammed in there. But the living room was huge and open,  
>especially with the wide sliding door leading to the outside.<br>Nick had gone to friends' houses before. Parents would either  
>be home, or there'd be plenty of evidence they existed. Parental<br>involvement was a reality. Even his own house had Gabriel's  
>sports equipment stacked in a corner of the garage, or Michael's<br>bills and papers always left on the kitchen counter, or Chris's  
>laundry flung at the bottom of the basement stairs. Always a reminder<br>that no matter what, being alone was practically impossible.  
>Here, this space was very much Adam's.<br>And they were very much alone.  
>"How long are you planning to hang in the doorway?" said<br>Adam. He shrugged out of a fleece pullover and tossed it  
>through the bedroom door. It left him in a loose T-shirt, cords of<br>muscle trailing down his arms. The air carried his scent to Nick,  
>oranges and cloves.<br>The truth was that he liked watching Adam move, all rhythmic  
>and lyrical as if the music never stopped.<br>He could hardly say that. He leaned back against the front  
>door and took a sip of coffee. He meant it to look casual. It<br>probably looked like he was eager to escape. His heart was already  
>working double time. He lived his life doing what others<br>expected of him. Being here with Adam had no place in that.  
>And worse, he had no idea what Adam expected.<br>Except maybe an answer to his question. Nick shrugged a little,  
>feeling the hardness of the door at his back. "I was wondering<br>what you had in mind."  
>Then he mentally kicked himself again. He shouldn't have<br>said that, either.  
>Adam didn't tease him this time. He stopped in front of Nick.<br>"You're safe here," he said quietly. "Okay?"  
>Nick nodded and looked away. His jaw felt tight.<br>"Seriously. You don't have to watch your words or your  
>thoughts or whatever has you so wound up." Adam put his<br>hands on Nick's shoulders, not letting go even when Nick stiffened.  
>"I only brought you here so we could talk. You just<br>looked like you needed a breather. You can leave any time you  
>want."<br>A breather. Nick needed a whole oxygen tank. He swallowed  
>and made himself meet Adam's eyes. "I don't want to leave."<br>"I don't want you to leave." Adam took Nick's free hand and  
>tugged. "Come on."<br>Nick hadn't held hands with another guy since it was mandated  
>on field trips in kindergarten. It should have felt foreign,<br>uncomfortable. He should have been pulling away.  
>But it didn't feel foreign. Adam's grip felt warm and secure.<br>He could have led Nick straight off a cliff and Nick would have  
>followed. At the bedroom door, Nick's heart staggered and<br>scrambled to maintain a rhythm, but Adam led him past that, to  
>the couch.<br>Not like it mattered. They were alone.  
>Comforting and terrifying at the same time.<br>Adam sat close, curling into the cushions to face Nick. Their  
>42 Brigid Kemmerer<br>fingers were still loosely twined, and Nick knew Adam was giving  
>him space to pull away. He didn't.<br>Nick waited, testing the air. He'd always been able to sense  
>changes in air patterns, from a door opening, from someone<br>coming close. But lately he'd also been able to sense emotion indirectly,  
>from the rate and quality of someone's breathing.<br>The air always talked to him, and now, it echoed Adam's  
>promise. You're safe here.<br>He looked at their fingers latticed together. Adam's thumb  
>brushed against his own, very slowly, very gently, a tentative<br>touch as if he knew that too much would send Nick reeling.  
>But firm enough that Nick knew he could grab on and cling<br>for dear life.  
>"I never kissed a guy before you," Nick said, flat out, no preamble.<br>"My brothers have no idea." He winced, remembering  
>Quinn's comments during the landscaping job. "They probably<br>think I'm a total player. Even my twin brother—"  
>"Gabriel, right?"<br>"Yeah." Nick glanced up, surprised that Adam had remembered.  
>"He says I'm the good twin, and that's why I get more<br>girls."  
>"That would make him the evil twin?"<br>Nick frowned. "If you ask Quinn, she'd say yes. But he's not.  
>He has a good heart. He's very loyal. We got picked on when we<br>were younger, and he always took a beating so I could get away.  
>He's the kind of guy to punch first and ask questions later.<br>Quinn hates him, and I wish I could fix it. But he can be sharp—  
>cruel. He speaks without thinking, and it gets him into trouble."<br>"You're close?"  
>"Yeah." Nick hesitated. "I think we're growing apart this<br>year. A little."  
>"And he has no clue you're into guys?"<br>Despite the fact that he was sitting here holding hands with  
>Adam, the instinct to reject the notion was so strong that Nick<br>almost denied it. He had to clear his throat. "No. No idea."  
>"Do you think he'd hurt you if he knew?"<br>Nick blinked in surprise. "What, you mean physically?"  
>SECRET 43<br>"Yeah, I mean physically."  
>Nick had never worried about his brothers beating the shit<br>out of him over something like this. Anger, isolation—those he  
>expected. Not violence.<br>His eyes zoomed in on the scar pulling at the edge of Adam's  
>lip. Years ago, someone had slammed Adam's face into a locker<br>at school, causing enough damage that he'd needed plastic  
>surgery to put his face back together.<br>But Nick couldn't imagine Gabriel hurting him. Not with his  
>fists, anyway. Disappointment and rejection were another story.<br>Nick shook his head. "I don't think he would. But he might  
>not take it well. Gabriel is very . . ."<br>Adam waited.  
>Nick ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stand up in tufts.<br>How could he explain Gabriel? "He plays on four varsity teams  
>at school. I think he knows most of the cheerleaders intimately,<br>if you catch my drift. He's got a girlfriend now, but if anyone's a  
>player, it's him. He's brave—I mean, he's trying to get into firefighter<br>school. Just very . . . I don't know."  
>"Alpha?"<br>"Yes. Perfect word."  
>"You admire him."<br>Nick shrugged.  
>Adam smiled. "You do. I can hear it in your voice." He<br>paused. "How old are you?"  
>"Seventeen. How old are you?"<br>"Nineteen."  
>Two years. It felt like twenty. Nick didn't know how to explain<br>that it wasn't just his brothers, that school would take on  
>an entirely different feel if he had to walk down the halls with<br>all his classmates knowing the truth. Adam could be himself,  
>and he had a safe place to go if the world started to crumble<br>around him.  
>Nick wasn't sure he had anything. He didn't think his brothers<br>would throw him out of the house, but he didn't want to live  
>there feeling their resentment, their unease. Their judgment.<br>44 Brigid Kemmerer  
>And he couldn't stop going to high school. Education was his<br>only way out of this town.  
>But he still couldn't bring himself to tear open those college<br>letters hidden in his desk. What if they didn't want him, either?  
>"Do your parents know about you?" Nick asked.<br>"Yes." Adam smiled. "I was obsessed with dance from day  
>one. I used to make up routines to show tunes in my living<br>room. I asked my parents for hot pink legwarmers for my ninth  
>birthday. I'm a walking cliché. I think they knew before I did."<br>"And they were all right?"  
>"They were all right until I got hurt. They wanted to send me<br>back to school, but they wanted me to pretend to be straight—like  
>anyone would believe that, right? I mean, I get it, they were worried.<br>I spent two weeks in the hospital. They'd seen what those idiots  
>had written all over my Facebook page. But I couldn't do it. I<br>couldn't pretend, and I didn't think it'd do any good. So I got my  
>GED, I got a job, and I moved out." He paused. "We're all right.<br>They help me with rent sometimes, since I'm going to school parttime."  
>But Nick heard it in Adam's voice. His parents had asked him<br>to pretend, and that had created a gap that time wasn't fixing.  
>Nick spent so much of his life pretending not to be an Elemental,<br>risking persecution for something he couldn't control.  
>What if he came out and his brothers told him to keep pretending?<br>This felt like a double whammy.  
>Nick looked into the warm depths of Adam's eyes. "You<br>spent two weeks in the hospital?"  
>"I might have played the patient a little more than necessary.<br>I had a hot male nurse."  
>Nick smiled and found himself reaching to trace the line on<br>Adam's face, before realizing what he was doing. He started to  
>pull away.<br>Adam caught his wrist. "You can touch me."  
>But Nick didn't move. His pulse was choking him. This was<br>so different from the first night they'd come here. Then, he'd  
>SECRET 45<br>been so confused and desperate that he hadn't even admitted his  
>feelings to Adam until he leapt out of his chair and kissed him.<br>Now there were too many thoughts in the way. Too many  
>fears. No Quinn to break them up if things went too far. He felt<br>like he was falling, scrambling to find purchase, and the only  
>rope he had was fraying strand by strand.<br>"What do you want?" said Adam, his voice a bit lower, the  
>sound curling through Nick's thoughts. "Something like this?"<br>He traced a finger over Nick's lip, slow and deliberate.  
>Every nerve ending in Nick's body responded to that touch.<br>His breath shuddered before he could stop it.  
>Adam smiled. He shifted closer, putting his palm against the<br>side of Nick's face, sliding fingers through his hair. He leaned in  
>to breathe along Nick's jaw. "Or something like this?"<br>If Nick turned his head, their lips would meet. Adam's weight  
>pressed into his side, warm and solid and masculine. Just from<br>those simple touches, Nick's body was responding more forcefully  
>than it ever had with any girl. Heck, once Quinn had<br>climbed in his lap and unbuttoned his pants, and his body hadn't  
>stood at attention the way it did for Adam's palm on his cheek.<br>His brain might have been a hot mess, but his body was definitely  
>not confused.<br>Adam moved closer still, pressing his lips to the hollow below  
>Nick's jaw, sliding his hand out of Nick's hair and down his<br>neck. His movements were strong, confident, nothing like the  
>feather-soft touches of a girl. Adam's hand slid lower, squeezing<br>Nick's chest through the T-shirt.  
>Nick swore and grabbed his face, bringing their lips together<br>because he couldn't take it. Adam kissed him back with equal  
>force. Nothing hesitant, tongues and heat and strength. Nick's<br>hands found Adam's neck, his shoulders, the muscled planes of  
>his chest. Tugging at his shirt yielded the smooth skin of Adam's<br>waist, the curve of his rib cage.  
>Adam grabbed the waistband of Nick's jeans and jerked him<br>closer. Nick's breath caught. His brain stopped working. He  
>wanted to throw Adam down on the couch.<br>So he did just that.  
>46 Brigid Kemmerer<br>But when he followed him down, Adam put a hand against  
>his chest. "Easy," he said between breaths.<br>"The hell with easy." Nick knocked his hand away and  
>kissed him again, pinning his wrist against the cushion.<br>Adam smiled and yielded, kissing him back before putting his  
>free hand against Nick's shoulder.<br>Nick grabbed his hand and pinned that one, too. But then he  
>realized Adam had tried to stop him twice. He broke the kiss.<br>Their breathing turned loud in the space between them.  
>The tiniest bit of tension hung around Adam's eyes, but his<br>voice was teasing. "The hell with easy, huh?"  
>Nick blushed fiercely. He actually felt the heat crawl up his<br>neck.  
>Adam laughed, but quickly sobered. He flexed his wrists.<br>"You're strong."  
>"Sorry." Nick let him go. But he didn't draw back.<br>"I wasn't complaining."  
>Nick wasn't sure how to read this, and it wasn't like he had a<br>ton of experience to draw from. "You stopped me."  
>"I stopped us." Adam paused and put his hand against Nick's<br>face, almost a caress. Nick closed his eyes and inhaled.  
>Then Adam's voice lost the softness. "Let me up."<br>What could he do? Nick shifted back, sitting on the edge of  
>the couch. This felt like a prelude to rejection.<br>You're safe here.  
>No. He wasn't. He didn't feel safe anywhere. Emotion clawed<br>at his throat. He'd let a wall down, and now he was furiously  
>trying to put the bricks back together.<br>Were they going too fast? Had he done that, or had Adam?  
>The hell with easy.<br>For a breathless instant, it had been amazing to let go of  
>thought, to let instinct rule his motions. But now he was paying<br>for it, and he couldn't analyze everything fast enough.  
>"Look." Adam drew a hand down his face. "I don't want<br>you—"  
>"Forget it." Nick shoved off the couch. The path to the door<br>seemed a mile long.  
>SECRET 47<br>"Hey." Adam came after him. "Hey."  
>Nick's hand closed on the doorknob. Adam grabbed his arm.<br>He was stronger than Nick was ready for, and he spun him  
>around.<br>Most girls couldn't do that, either.  
>"What?" Nick demanded. The air had dropped ten degrees.<br>"Well, you're definitely gay. A straight guy wouldn't be such  
>a drama queen."<br>Nick set his jaw. "Let me go."  
>"Can I finish what I was going to say?"<br>Nick stared back at him. For all his gentle grace, Adam had a  
>core of strength. Nick had seen it once before, and he was seeing<br>it now.  
>"Fine," he said. "You don't want me . . . ?"<br>"I don't want you to rush into something you're not ready for."  
>Oh.<br>Adam's hand loosened on his bicep, but he didn't let go. "I've  
>dated guys before who don't want to be out. It's a personal decision,<br>and I get it, but . . ."  
>Nick swallowed. "But what?"<br>Adam looked at him, hard. "But if you wake up hating yourself,  
>I don't want you taking it out on me."<br>Nick studied him, allowing some of the earlier moments to  
>click into place. Adam asking if Gabriel would hurt Nick. The<br>tension in his eyes when he said, "You're strong."  
>Even now, he was holding himself at a slight distance.<br>There was more to Adam's story, hiding behind this easy selfconfidence.  
>Nick shifted his weight, and Adam almost flinched. Without<br>the air to reinforce his impression, Nick might have missed it altogether.  
>Slowly, carefully, Nick reached his hands out and put them on<br>Adam's shoulders. "You're safe here," he said softly. "Okay?"  
>Adam's eyes widened as Nick fed his words back to him.<br>Nick smiled, just a little. "You don't have to watch your  
>words or your thoughts or whatever has you so wound up."<br>Now Adam was blushing. "Okay, okay—"  
>48 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Nick kissed him. Not with the feverish intensity of a few moments  
>ago, but a bare brush of lips.<br>When he tried to pull away, Adam caught his face and held  
>him there, putting his forehead against his. "You're going to<br>break my heart. I can feel it."  
>"Not if I can help it." He put a hand over Adam's, holding it<br>to his cheek. "Slow?"  
>Adam nodded, turning his head to kiss Nick's palm.<br>Then he grinned. "Well," Adam said. "Slower."


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up and shivered.  
>She still had her dance shorts on, but there hadn't been<br>time to change. Her jaw hurt like a bitch, and she knew there'd  
>be a bruise there tomorrow.<br>Her older brother had welcomed her home by slamming her  
>face into the wall and demanding to know where his money was.<br>Like she had a clue. Quinn would be so happy when Jake  
>went back to college. Her little brother Jordan had already taken<br>to crashing at friends' houses every night, rotating through his  
>circle of gamer buddies so no one's parents got suspicious.<br>Quinn had been sitting on the curb out in front of the 7-Eleven,  
>but the old Korean woman who worked there had come out<br>shrieking about teenagers loitering, so now Quinn was sitting on a  
>milk crate out back, clinging to the darkness.<br>She was this close to stealing food from the Dumpster.  
>When she'd lived within walking distance of Becca's house,<br>Becca's mom had always left her a plate of food. She'd known  
>about Quinn's disagreements with her mom. Quinn still had a<br>key to their house on her key ring.  
>But now that Becca and Chris were an item, Quinn increasingly<br>felt like a third wheel.  
>Especially now that she knew the truth about Becca and the<br>Merricks.  
>A truth she'd learned from Nick, not Becca.<br>Some best friend.  
>Hunger clawed at Quinn's insides and she wished she'd gone<br>with Nick and Adam for coffee. But she didn't have any money  
>and she didn't want to be a mooch and a third wheel.<br>But now that she had nowhere to sleep . . . Her fingers traced  
>over the face of her cell phone, and she considered texting Nick.<br>A metal door slammed, a little distance down the back wall.  
>Quinn saw a flare of light, then a cigarette glowed red. The light<br>over the door was out, but from the person's size, it looked like  
>a guy. Dark clothes.<br>She pulled her hood down, tucking her blond hair more  
>tightly under the covering.<br>It didn't help. "Hey!" The sharp male voice made her head  
>snap up. The musty scent of cigarettes burned her nostrils. He<br>was coming toward her. "You can't be out here."  
>Quinn didn't move. "Says who?"<br>"Says me."  
>"And who are you, the owner of the parking lot?"<br>"No. The whole strip mall."  
>Well, she hadn't expected that answer. She still didn't move.<br>"Prove it."  
>"What, you want to see the deed?" He moved like he was<br>going to grab her, and she scrambled off the crate, dusting grit  
>from her clothes.<br>"Fine, fine. I'm going."  
>He followed her, taking a draw from his cigarette, clearly<br>planning to make sure she exited his property. When she reached  
>the sidewalk running beside the 7-Eleven, she whirled, ready to<br>lay into him for being an asshole.  
>But here the light found his features. It was Tyler, the guy<br>from Nick's driveway. She thought of Nick's revelations and  
>knew she should be afraid of Tyler, but her life was overflowing<br>with cruel people, and she didn't carry that much adrenaline  
>around with her.<br>"It's you," she spat.  
>SECRET 51<br>"It's you." He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled again.  
>"Where's your boyfriend?"<br>"He's picking me up. He'll be here any minute." Just because  
>she wasn't afraid didn't mean she was stupid.<br>"He was picking you up behind the 7-Eleven?"  
>Okay, maybe she was stupid. She gestured at the darkened<br>storefronts lining the rest of the strip mall. "Why don't you go  
>back where you came from?"<br>"What are you doing out here, really?"  
>"None of your business."<br>His eyes narrowed. "What happened to your face? Did that  
>Merrick prick knock you around?"<br>He didn't sound concerned, but he didn't sound like an affirmative  
>answer would surprise him, either. "No. And don't call<br>him that."  
>He huffed, blowing smoke through his nose. "You girls are<br>all the same. You think those idiots are amazing and perfect and  
>special. Well, you know what? They're not."<br>"I'm sorry, Prince Charming. Clearly not everyone is up to  
>your standards." She stepped up and ripped the cigarette out of<br>his mouth, intending to break it in half.  
>But it flared and burned to ash in her hand. Quinn shrieked<br>and dropped it.  
>Tyler smirked. "You don't know what you're messing with,<br>baby girl. With me or them."  
>"Don't call me that."<br>"I just wanted to talk to them, and you saw how that jerkoff  
>treated me."<br>"Yeah, and you were such a gentleman." She swung a hand  
>to shove him away.<br>He was too quick and grabbed her wrist. "Trust me, they've  
>pushed me way past being a gentleman. Maybe I should get<br>some answers from you."  
>God, he was strong. She regretted trying to hit him. Her arm<br>burned like he was pressing the cigarette between his hand and  
>her skin. Quinn was gasping before she could stop it. Part of her<br>52 Brigid Kemmerer  
>wished she'd stayed in the apartment and tried her odds against<br>her brother.  
>"Go ahead," Tyler said. "Scream. I'll tell them I caught you<br>trying to break in."  
>"Let me go," she whimpered. The pain was immobilizing. He<br>was pulling tears out of her, and she wanted to kill him for that.  
>"Let me go."<br>"You think this is bad?" he said. "This is nothing. Just wait  
>until you spend more time with them. Wait until you see what<br>they do to you. They are killers."  
>Sweat bloomed on her forehead. "Okay. I get it. Lemme go.<br>Please."  
>"I want to know what's going on. You hear me? I want to<br>know what really happened at that carnival, and I want to  
>know what happened to the Guide that came to town to take<br>care of it. You tell them I want answers. Got it?"  
>"Got it," she whispered. The grip on her arm was the only<br>thing holding her on her feet. She was going to pee her pants in  
>a second.<br>"Good." He let her go. Shoved her, really. She hit the ground,  
>the impact jarring. She was lying where concrete met a bed of<br>large, smooth stones surrounding the streetlamp. She'd probably  
>have sixteen bruises tomorrow, just from this landing.<br>"Idiot," he sneered.  
>She seized a rock and punched him in the side of the knee<br>with it, throwing every ounce of strength into the motion. He  
>swore as his leg gave out. He dropped like—well, like a rock.<br>Quinn swung her elbow around to jab him in the face.  
>His hand shot out to grab her, but Quinn was already running.<br>Full out, as fast as her feet would go. Trees stretched along  
>Ritchie Highway up ahead, a gaping pit of darkness full of unseen<br>dangers. Quinn scrambled through the underbrush, not  
>caring about staying silent. She just ran.<br>Branches whipped her legs, but she didn't slow. She stumbled  
>twice. Then a third time, almost falling. Another branch whipped<br>across her face, followed by a cloud of spiderwebs. Quinn  
>screamed and beat at her face.<br>SECRET 53  
>Then she shut up. Oxygen whistled into her chest, and she<br>told her lungs to knock it off so she could hear.  
>Silence.<br>Darkness swelled around her, and she couldn't see anything.  
>Quinn yanked her phone out of her pocket and dialed. Third<br>wheel or not, she didn't know if Tyler would come after her out  
>here.<br>"Come on," she muttered, bouncing from one foot to another  
>while it rang.<br>"Hello?"  
>"Nick," she said as quietly as she could muster. "I need you."<br>At first Nick saw nothing along the stretch of Ritchie Highway.  
>He peered into the darkness, looking for Quinn, finding<br>only trees. Down the road a bit, the Jiffy Lube sign threw light  
>into space, but here it was pitch-black. He rolled down the window<br>to listen, but the diesel engine made that impossible.  
>Worry danced with exasperation in his head. It had taken<br>him only ten minutes to get here from Adam's apartment, but  
>that felt like a long time when you were hiding from Tyler Morgan.<br>He knew from experience.  
>What had she been doing with Tyler, anyway? He'd just seen<br>her two hours ago! Safe at home!  
>Just when he was about to turn off the truck to go looking,<br>Quinn burst through the trees into the path of his headlights, lit  
>up like a beacon.<br>Her legs were scratched to hell, long stripes of red crisscrossing  
>her thighs. But more concerning was the bruise on her jaw, cut<br>through by one long scratch that was still bleeding. Her eyes were  
>red and tear-filled.<br>Then she was out of the light and climbing into the truck.  
>Fury stole Nick's exasperation. "Jesus, Quinn, are you<br>okay?"  
>"Do I look okay?"<br>"No! Did Tyler hit you? I'm taking you to the cops—"  
>"I'm not going to the cops." Quinn flung her tangled blond<br>54 Brigid Kemmerer  
>hair back from her face. "Drive, Nick, all right? Drive the fucking<br>truck."  
>He took a long breath and blew it out through his teeth.<br>She punched him in the arm. Hard. "Drive!"  
>He shifted into gear. "You want to tell me what happened?"<br>"No."  
>Nick listened to the air threading through the cab, cataloging<br>her injuries as his element fed information to him. Mostly cuts  
>and bruises, nothing more serious than that.<br>As he thought it, his senses picked up on something else, an  
>unnatural heat making the air jitter around her.<br>She was cradling her arm.  
>"He burned you?" Nick asked.<br>"How did you know that?"  
>"It's his MO. He's a Fire Elemental. I've felt the effects before."<br>More than once, too. Tyler and his best friend Seth used  
>to wait to trap Nick alone. They'd pin him down and threaten<br>to burn his skin off, knowing Nick wouldn't use his abilities to  
>stop them.<br>Only they didn't always stop at threats.  
>Nick should have let him suffocate in the driveway.<br>"Fire, like Gabriel?" Quinn snorted. "Why is that not surprising?  
>They should just burn the crap out of each other."<br>"Not like Gabriel. Nowhere near as strong. Give me your  
>hand."<br>"He seemed plenty strong to me." But she held out her hand,  
>snatching it back at the last moment when he went to take it.<br>"Don't touch it, okay? It hurts like a bitch."  
>He glanced away from the road for a sec. Lights from the<br>roadway reflected off the drying tears on her cheeks. He caught  
>sight of that bruise again and wanted to kill Tyler.<br>"I won't hurt you," he said. "Come closer."  
>She unsnapped her seat belt and scooted to the middle of the<br>bench, until her shoulder was against his side and their thighs  
>were touching.<br>Her face pressed into his shoulder. She smelled like the  
>woods, pine and dirt and nighttime.<br>SECRET 55  
>Nick sighed and put an arm around her, stroking her hair<br>back from her face. "Quinn. Do you want me to take you  
>home?"<br>"To your house?" her muffled voice asked hopefully.  
>He hadn't meant his house, but he felt the pain and fear in<br>every breath she took.  
>"Please?" she whispered.<br>"Okay," he said, hitting the turn signal to make a U-turn at  
>the next intersection. "You have to be absolutely quiet. Mike<br>will kill me if he finds you there."  
>"Are you sure you don't want me to be loud?" she said suggestively.<br>Nick made a disgusted noise. "You can't be too hurt if you're  
>making jokes."<br>She raised her head and sniffled. "You smell like Adam."  
>Nick couldn't figure out the note in her voice, but warmth<br>snuck across his cheeks as he remembered the exotic scent of oranges  
>and cloves. Of course she'd know what Adam smelled<br>like—she'd spent an hour with her hands all over him during rehearsal.  
>"Your bag is still here, too," Quinn continued, kicking at his<br>messenger bag on the floor of the truck. "Nick Merrick, you  
>dirty dog. It's after midnight."<br>"We just talked."  
>"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"<br>"Quinn. Shut up and give me your arm."  
>When she did, he glanced between her wrist and the road. He<br>could feel the heat coming off her skin from here. No wonder  
>he'd found her crying.<br>He definitely should've killed Tyler in the driveway.  
>Nick blew air along the burn, feeding power into it.<br>Quinn sucked in a breath. "What are you doing?"  
>"Healing it." He had to be careful, though. Too much power<br>could hurt. He knew that from experience, too.  
>She relaxed against him, resting her head against his shoulder<br>again. "That feels amazing."  
>"I'll send you a bill."<br>56 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Can you fix my face, too?"<br>"Yes." Another breath, another flare of power. She was relaxed,  
>so he tried for information. "Why did he hit you?"<br>"I don't want to talk about it. Did you sleep with Adam?"  
>"Of course not." The thought was terrifying and intriguing<br>all at once, and he told his imagination to knock it off.  
>"Don't get all indignant about it. Two virile guys? Isn't that<br>like twice the recommended daily dose of testosterone?"  
>"Quinn."<br>"Did you make out at least?"  
>He sighed along her skin.<br>Quinn made a low sound and snuggled closer. "You really  
>like him, don't you?"<br>He didn't answer. Honestly, he still didn't know if he'd been  
>relieved to get Quinn's call, putting an end to the night, or disappointed<br>that it had cut their time short. He felt so unprepared  
>to be with a guy, like he only knew the choreography for one<br>dance step, and this was a completely different type of music.  
>God, he couldn't even fool himself. Disappointed. He'd been<br>disappointed.  
>He'd never lost control like that before. His life was always<br>about fulfilling expectations. Spending a few minutes acting on  
>instinct—he'd never felt anything like it. He couldn't wait to feel<br>like that again.  
>Quinn lifted her head and looked up at him. "You do really<br>like him. I know you do. I could tell the instant you saw him at  
>the studio."<br>"I'm glad I'm so transparent."  
>"You're not transparent. He's just like that. Magnetic. Everyone<br>likes Adam."  
>Nick blew another line of breath along her arm, drawing the<br>burn out, feeling the skin rebuild. Everyone likes Adam.  
>Quinn's voice had changed when she'd dropped the words.<br>Nick realigned what he'd learned from the evening, Adam's  
>gentle teasing, his easy comfort with who he was. They'd shared<br>a moment. More than a moment—Nick had trusted him with  
>the biggest secret of his life. You're safe here.<br>SECRET 57  
>With a start, he realized that Adam's one-liners could have<br>been the same kind of practiced words that Nick dropped on  
>unsuspecting girls.<br>He'd rushed into this with his emotions exposed and bare.  
>He'd fallen for Adam's quiet confidence, his dedication to dance<br>and school, and his singular focus on what he wanted. Nick had  
>been all instinct and feeling and passion. Adam had been controlled.<br>In control.  
>You're going to break my heart. I can feel it.<br>God, repeating it to himself now, it felt like such a line.  
>"Yowch!" Quinn said, sitting up straight and yanking her<br>arm away. "Holy crap, Nick!"  
>"Sorry," he muttered. "Here. I'll be more careful."<br>"No—actually—I think it's fine." She held her wrist out, running  
>a finger along the smooth skin. "You're amazing."<br>"Amazing," he echoed. "Yeah. Right."  
>"What's wrong?"<br>"Am I being an idiot, Quinn?"  
>He could feel her studying him in the darkness. "I think I<br>need more information."  
>"With Adam."<br>She was quiet for a minute. He pulled up the driveway to his  
>house and killed the engine. They couldn't sit here too long, but<br>they could never finish this conversation in the house, so he  
>waited with the keys in his hand, his eyes on the darkened dash.<br>Quinn let out a slow breath. "You really like him," she said  
>softly. "Like, full on hearts in your eyes, doodling your last<br>name with his, making up—"  
>"Quinn."<br>She pulled her legs up on the bench to sit cross-legged. "Did  
>you go back to his place?"<br>He winced, feeling like he was admitting something he  
>shouldn't. "Yes."<br>"Was there more kissing or more talking?"  
>His face felt warm again, and he fiddled with the keys in his<br>lap. Was this how girls felt? He didn't like it. "Dead even."  
>58 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Did anyone's clothes come off?"  
>"No!" Thank god. But now he was imagining it.<br>God, this was so confusing. He shouldn't have thrown away  
>the cup sleeve with Courtnie's number. That he knew how to<br>handle.  
>But another part of him railed against the idea, like he'd<br>cracked a door and his subconscious had wedged an arm into  
>the opening.<br>Quinn was quiet for a while. "I've known Adam for a long  
>time," she finally said. "But that doesn't mean I know him well.<br>He doesn't bring a lot of guys around the studio or anything—  
>but he never seems lonely, either. Are you going to see him<br>again?"  
>"I don't know. You called, and I left in a hurry. He said he'd<br>text me later." Nick checked his phone. No new messages from  
>Adam. Not even to ask how Quinn was.<br>"Sucks being the girl, doesn't it?" said Quinn.  
>"Shut up." But yes. It did.<br>Nick tried to be quiet when he snuck Quinn into the house,  
>but Hunter stirred and ran a hand across his face when they<br>crept into the bedroom.  
>His eyes widened fractionally when he saw Quinn, but he<br>took it in stride. "You guys want me to crash on the couch?"  
>"She's sleeping here, that's all," said Nick.<br>Hunter yawned and rolled over, turning his back on them.  
>"Yeah, okay. Let me know if you change your mind."<br>Nick usually slept in a T-shirt and boxers, but out of deference  
>to Quinn's presence in his bed, he pulled on a pair of<br>threadbare sweatpants. They changed in the dark, and then he  
>drew back the blankets.<br>Quinn slid in beside him. She offered his modesty no deference.  
>His hand brushed bare thigh, but before he could react to<br>that, she was pressed up against him, her leg slung over his.  
>"What are you doing?" he whispered, controlling the air so<br>the sound waves of their conversation wouldn't carry to Hunter.  
>SECRET 59<br>"Come on," she breathed. "If I'm caught here, it should at  
>least look like we're sleeping together."<br>Nick didn't say anything, torn between protesting and thinking  
>she had a pretty good point.<br>Quinn snuggled more closely, resting her head on his shoulder.  
>"It's not like you care, right? If you want me to move, I<br>will."  
>"No." He hesitated. "I guess it's okay."<br>"Can you still fix my face?" Her voice was sleepy.  
>"Sure," he murmured. At least her sleeping position made<br>that easy. He turned his head and eased a breath along her  
>cheek.<br>She relaxed into him, so he fished for information. "You  
>never told me how you ended up with Tyler."<br>"I walked to the 7-Eleven. He was there."  
>"You walked there alone?"<br>"I walk there all the time. Stop being such a mother hen."  
>"Why did Tyler start hassling you?" For an instant, he wondered<br>if Quinn had walked up and started hassling Tyler. She  
>wasn't exactly subtle.<br>"He wants to know what happened at the carnival. He said  
>something about the Guides." She paused. "The news said those<br>explosions at the carnival were due to poor wiring."  
>"No. That was Calla Dean. She started those."<br>"Calla Dean!"  
>"Shh. Yeah. She was behind the arson attacks, too."<br>Quinn's house had burned down in one of those arson attacks—  
>it was the whole reason they were living in that damned<br>apartment. "I thought that was Rick Stacey!"  
>"He helped, but she was the mastermind."<br>Quinn was silent for a minute. She knew Calla Dean from  
>school—but she didn't know her well. Calla had been one of the<br>students who'd disappeared after the carnival, and everyone  
>thought she was dead. There was still a memorial of notes and<br>pictures taped all over her locker.  
>It seemed ridiculous, but all Quinn could think was, I always<br>60 Brigid Kemmerer  
>liked her highlights. "I thought she was one of the students who<br>died in the carnival explosions."  
>"We don't know what happened to her. When Silver came<br>after us, we found the middle school Elementals, but not her."  
>He shrugged. "Maybe she ran."<br>"And Silver is one of the Guides that are trying to kill you  
>guys, right?"<br>"Right. But he's in prison."  
>"When will they send a new one?"<br>"Eventually." He brushed a finger across her cheek. "How's  
>that feel?"<br>Her eyes, normally so bright, were shadowed in the darkness.  
>"Much better," she whispered. "Thanks."<br>Then, without warning, she shifted up and pressed her lips  
>to his.<br>For a second, Nick didn't resist. He'd kissed girls—lots of  
>them—and he knew how to respond. If that girl Courtnie had<br>ambushed him with her lips, he probably would have kissed her  
>back without thinking about it.<br>But this—this was different. Quinn knew. And this wasn't  
>like earlier, when she'd been giving him a cover.<br>He'd never shove her away, but he stiffened and drew back.  
>"I'm sorry," she whispered.<br>"It's okay," he said automatically.  
>But it wasn't okay. He felt like he was hurting her, when he<br>hadn't done anything.  
>And this would be easier if she weren't still attached to his<br>side like a leech.  
>"I'm sorry," she said again. "I forgot—what you were<br>doing—it felt—it felt—"  
>"Shh," he whispered. "It's okay."<br>"Are you mad?"  
>He shook his head. "I'm not mad, Quinn." But he kind of<br>was, and he couldn't put it all together. He paused and touched  
>her face again. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to keep doing<br>this."  
>SECRET 61<br>She caught his hand and held it there. "It's my fault."  
>He frowned. "I don't mean to hurt you."<br>"Sometimes I wish you weren't . . ." Her voice dropped even  
>further, and her eyes flicked toward the end of the room where<br>Hunter slept. "You know."  
>"I know." Truth was, sometimes he wished that, too.<br>"Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?"  
>Nick shook his head and kissed her on the forehead. "No. It's<br>okay. Don't worry about it."  
>She took him at his word. She snuggled back into him, and<br>after a few minutes, her breathing told him she was asleep.  
>It wouldn't come so easily to Nick.<br>Sucks being the girl, doesn't it?  
>But he wasn't a girl. And he sure as hell wasn't going to play<br>one. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her or Hunter, he slid  
>the phone off his nightstand and unlocked the screen.<br>Did he want to do this? What message would he send?  
>Then his message icon lit up.<br>Adam. Words appeared on the screen.  
>You free tomorrow? Have class til 8 but free after.<br>Nick's heart skipped ahead of him, dancing in circles. But  
>he'd already blown off physics tonight, and he had a paper due<br>in two days.  
>He probably shouldn't seem too eager, either.<br>God, he couldn't believe he was even having this conversation  
>with himself. He typed back quickly.<br>Have to study.  
>As soon as he pressed SEND, he wanted to punch the phone.<br>He had to study? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with him?  
>He so couldn't play this from the other side. How would Adam<br>read that? As rejection? More likely, that Nick was the biggest  
>62 Brigid Kemmerer<br>nerd to walk the earth. The phone silently mocked him, not offering  
>any further messages.<br>Then, just as he was about to set it on his side table, the display  
>lit again.<br>Study here?  
>Nick smiled.<br>You're on.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick rubbed at his eyes and told himself to focus. He was  
>usually the first one to hand in a completed test, but more<br>than half the class had walked their papers up to the front of the  
>room. Even Gustav Asciak, the foreign exchange student who<br>barely spoke a lick of English, had turned in his paper.  
>Nick still had half the test to complete. He never should have<br>blown off studying. He kept mixing up the formulas, and the  
>more he told his brain to spit out the information, the more it<br>supplied him with thoughts of what he had been doing last  
>night.<br>Adam's eyes.  
>Adam's hands.<br>Adam's—  
>Focus.<br>This wasn't the end of the world. He had an A average in  
>every single class, including this one. Getting a less than perfect<br>score on one test wasn't going to kill him.  
>But it was definitely going to piss him off. His GPA was<br>everything. He wasn't rolling in money, so he needed scholarships  
>if he wanted to go away to school.<br>He could imagine the college rejection letters now. After  
>learning that one kiss and a sleepless night led you to fail a test,<br>we have decided you are no longer a fit for our institution . . .  
>The bell rang, and Nick snapped his head up. Students<br>started shoving books into backpacks and pushing for the exit.  
>Holy shit. He still had seven questions left.<br>He kept writing, scribbling fast. The room cleared before he  
>was halfway through the next problem. His thoughts were so<br>scattered that he wasn't sure he was tackling the question correctly.  
>"Nick." Dr. Cutter appeared beside his desk, tapping a finger<br>on the plastic surface. His voice was gentle but carried an air of  
>finality. "Time is up, I'm afraid."<br>Nick didn't stop writing. "One minute?"  
>Dr. Cutter didn't say anything for a long moment, but Nick<br>felt his concern in the air.  
>Finally, he put a hand on Nick's wrist, stilling his writing.<br>"Did you not understand the material?" he said. "I wish you  
>had come to me earlier this week—"<br>"No." This was pointless. Nick put his pencil down and  
>rubbed at his eyes. "I understood it."<br>The teacher picked up the test and flipped through the pages.  
>"You've missed the entire last section."<br>Like he didn't know that. Nick focused on the pencil, wishing  
>he could stab it straight through his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't<br>have time to study. I kept mixing up the formulas."  
>Dr. Cutter sat down at the desk beside him. "Is something<br>going on at home?"  
>Nick knew this voice. He'd heard it twelve dozen times since<br>his parents died. While teachers and counselors had learned to  
>steer clear of Gabriel's temper, they knew they could seek answers<br>from Nick. Are you okay? Are you getting enough to eat?  
>Is your brother doing enough to take care of you?<br>But he was seventeen now, and way too old to get a pass for  
>something like that.<br>Especially when failing this test had nothing to do with problems  
>at home, and everything to do with one dark-haired<br>dancer.  
>God, you're obsessed.<br>"No," he said. "Home's fine. Really."  
>SECRET 65<br>Dr. Cutter wasn't convinced. "Girlfriend?"  
>Nick looked at him. "I'm okay. Just tired."<br>"This is a unit test. If you fail, you'll have to get someone  
>from home to sign it."<br>Michael probably wouldn't be angry, but he'd definitely want  
>an explanation. That was almost worse.<br>So, Michael, there's this guy . . .  
>Nick cleared his throat. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll catch up."<br>His teacher studied him, and Nick told himself not to look  
>away. Finally, Dr. Cutter clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll let<br>you do a retake. Friday?"  
>This was a pity move. Nick knew it, and pride was pricking<br>at him to refuse. Like with his brothers, Dr. Cutter was judging  
>him on what he expected from Nick. But this was an AP class,<br>and his performance here might carry a lot of weight when colleges  
>started dishing out funds.<br>He told his pride to stick it. "That would be great. Thank you."  
>AP Calculus wasn't much better. Nick had completely forgotten<br>to do the homework. Three questions—three stupid questions!—  
>but he'd never gotten around to opening his assignment<br>book last night, so he hadn't bothered to do them.  
>He mentally added another zero to his imaginary grade sheet.<br>At least this was only homework.  
>By the time he sat at a table at lunch, he was ready for some<br>cutlery, just so he could stab something.  
>Lunch was pizza. Figured. Not even so much as a plastic<br>fork.  
>A tray dropped onto the table beside him. Four slices of pizza<br>and a coke. The air told him it was Gabriel before his eyes did.  
>His twin dropped onto the bench. "What's with you?"<br>They hadn't seen each other all morning, but Gabriel could  
>always read his moods like Nick had a news crawl embedded in<br>his forehead.  
>"Failed a physics test," Nick said.<br>"You know how I solve that problem?" said his twin. "I  
>don't take physics."<br>"Hilarious. Where's Hunter?"  
>66 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Working on a research project. I was starving." He popped  
>the cap on the soda. "You look like shit."<br>"Wow, I'm glad you sat down."  
>"Hunter said you snuck Quinn in last night. I'm guessing you<br>didn't get much sleep."  
>Nick shrugged, keeping his eyes on his food, torn between<br>defending Quinn's honor and keeping his own secrets. Then  
>again, she wasn't exactly making a strong case for her own<br>chastity.  
>"She needed a place to crash." Nick hesitated. "Tyler's hassling<br>her." He repeated everything that Quinn had told him last  
>night.<br>Gabriel listened, stacking two slices of pizza to eat them at  
>the same time. "What was she doing behind the 7-Eleven?"<br>"She won't tell me." Nick kept rolling it around in his head.  
>Had she been so upset over Tyler? Or had something happened<br>at home?  
>"Nicky, you need to ditch this girl."<br>"Why?"  
>"Because she's nothing but drama. You don't need that."<br>Nick glared at him. "I think I can manage."  
>"Jesus, don't bite my head off. I'm just trying to save you the<br>trouble. We have enough drama."  
>He didn't need a reminder of that. Nick picked up his slice of<br>pizza to spare himself the need to say anything.  
>"Where is the old ball and chain, anyway?" said Gabriel.<br>"She had some kind of group project for French."  
>They sat in silence for a long moment. Nick knew he should<br>say something—anything—but he was so worried he'd open his  
>mouth and tell Gabriel everything.<br>"It's not just your test," said Gabriel. "What else is up?"  
>I spent half the night with a boy and I can't stop thinking<br>about him. "I'm just tired."  
>Gabriel didn't respond, but Nick could feel the weight of his<br>eyes.  
>"You guys are getting serious, huh?" Gabriel said.<br>"Maybe." Nick chewed his pizza and fought with his brain  
>SECRET 67<br>as it helpfully supplied him with thoughts of Adam. Adam's  
>apartment. Adam dancing, driving his body into a powerful<br>routine. Adam touching him, first the light brush of his fingers,  
>then stronger. Adam, Adam, Adam.<br>"Who are you doing tonight?" said Gabriel.  
>Nick choked on his pizza. He coughed hard and needed a<br>drink of soda to get it together. "What did you just say?"  
>"I said, what are you doing tonight? You're so frigging keyed<br>up. You have plans with Quinn? Want to go out?"  
>Nick shook his head. "Yes. No. I mean—I don't want to go<br>out. I've got to study."  
>Gabriel's hand closed over his forearm. "Seriously," he said,<br>his voice a touch lower. "You all right?"  
>Nick looked at him. For an instant, he felt like six-year-old<br>Nicky, wanting to cry and hide and let his brother fix everything.  
>What had Adam said last night? You admire him. I can<br>hear it in your voice.  
>He was right. Gabriel had always been the fighter. The defender.<br>Nick could see it now: if he told his twin something was  
>wrong, Gabriel would be on his feet, ready to knock heads.<br>It made Nick feel immeasurably weak sometimes. Like when  
>Gabriel was sneaking around, rescuing people from burning<br>buildings. Or like last night, when Tyler had gone after Quinn.  
>Gabriel wouldn't have picked her up and driven her home.<br>Gabriel would have tracked down Tyler and beaten the shit out  
>of him.<br>When Nick thought about telling Gabriel the truth about  
>himself, it felt like admitting one more way he didn't live up to<br>his identical twin brother.  
>His appetite vanished. He flung his pizza down and shoved<br>the tray away. "Yeah. Fine. You want that? I'm not hungry."  
>Before Gabriel could stop him, he shouldered his bag and<br>walked away from the table.  
>"Hey!" Gabriel called.<br>Nick called back over his shoulder. "I'll see you at home  
>later."<br>68 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Almost immediately, his cell phone chimed. Nick grabbed it<br>from his pocket, hoping for a message from Adam.  
>Michael had sent him a message.<br>Can you help with a job tonight? Should be done by 7. Too  
>much for me + C.<br>C was Chris. Nick sighed. He was already behind with  
>school, but he'd be able to study at Adam's, right? Michael<br>wouldn't ask if he didn't need the help.  
>The exhaustion that had been clinging to Nick's back all day<br>doubled in weight. For an instant, he was tempted to say no.  
>But Michael expected a yes. And Nick always did what his<br>brothers expected.  
>Nick slid his fingers along the face of the phone.<br>Sure. I'll be there.  
>Quinn spent all day dodging Becca, but her best friend—<br>ahem, former best friend—caught up to her next to her locker  
>after last period.<br>Quinn didn't even look at her. Like she needed to see Becca's  
>straight, shiny dark hair, her perfect little figure, or Chris Merrick's<br>arm slung over her shoulder.  
>Well, Chris wasn't really there, but he might as well have<br>been.  
>"I can't talk," said Quinn. "I need to catch the bus."<br>Becca was studying her. Quinn could feel it. But her voice was  
>easy, casual. "Want a ride?"<br>"Nah."  
>"You want to ride the bus? What are you pissed at me<br>about now?"  
>Quinn slammed her locker shut, making the metal crash echo<br>down the hallway. She flung her trig textbook into her backpack.  
>This was so like Becca. Acting like Quinn was such a<br>SECRET 69  
>drama queen, so let's laugh off all her problems and treat her<br>like everything is trivial.  
>And of course all this slamming and flinging was probably<br>driving that point home.  
>Quinn picked up her bag and started walking.<br>"Come on," said Becca, catching up with her. "Would you  
>stop wasting time and tell me what's wrong?"<br>"Nothing is wrong."  
>"I thought you were all into doing the double-date thing with<br>Nick and Chris. What happened?"  
>Nick is gay and you kept secrets.<br>"Forget it," said Quinn. "Just go back to your perfect life."  
>Becca stopped short. Quinn kept walking, but Becca called<br>after her. "Oh, my perfect life? You mean with my father showing  
>up out of nowhere? Or having the entire school know exactly<br>what I did with Drew McKay? Or—"  
>Quinn whirled. "Shut up." The worst part was that she did<br>feel badly about all of those things. She marched back to Becca.  
>"If you're going to start listing your life difficulties, why don't<br>you start with the truth?"  
>Now Becca looked exasperated. "Damn it, Quinn, I don't<br>even know what you're talking about."  
>"I'm talking about how I learned all your secrets from the<br>Last Airbender last night."  
>Becca looked almost incredulous. "A cartoon? What? You—<br>wait—you—"  
>Quinn watched sudden realization dawn on Becca's face.<br>"Nick told you," Becca whispered.  
>"No shit he told me. Why didn't you tell me is what I want to<br>know."  
>When Becca didn't have anything to say to that, Quinn<br>started walking again.  
>Becca caught up to her in a hurry. Her voice was a whispered<br>rush of words, hidden beneath the bustle in the hallway.  
>"Quinn, I couldn't tell you. Did he tell you everything? About<br>how they're marked for death? About how the Guides will come  
>for them—"<br>70 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"He told me all that."<br>"Did he tell you about my father? How both Hunter and I  
>aren't supposed to exist, either?"<br>"Yes."  
>"Did he—"<br>Quinn shoved her away. "He told me all of it, Becca!" She  
>glared at her, feeling fury pour out of her eyes. "Why didn't you?"<br>"I . . . couldn't."  
>I couldn't.<br>Quinn could hear the subtext.  
>Because I couldn't trust you.<br>And suddenly, that pinpointed the real problem here.  
>Becca hadn't trusted her with this secret. Maybe she thought<br>Quinn was too volatile, maybe she didn't think Quinn was worthy  
>of knowing. Maybe Becca was genuinely worried and she<br>didn't want to put Quinn in danger—but that felt like a load of  
>bullshit since her friend hadn't stopped her from dating Nick.<br>Quinn felt like such an idiot.  
>"He told me all about it," Quinn said, hating that her throat<br>felt thick. "All of it, Bex."  
>Then she stood there waiting for Becca to re-categorize the<br>last few weeks, the same way Quinn had done when she'd first  
>learned everything from Nick.<br>The time Becca had totaled her car on the bridge, but Becca's  
>father, the Guide, had really been behind it.<br>The fires in town, the destruction of the school library, the  
>students who were killed at the carnival.<br>How the kidnapping of a dozen local teenagers had nothing to  
>do with a local criminal, and everything to do with a Guide coming<br>to town to destroy the Merricks. How Calla Dean wasn't a  
>victim, but a murdering pyromaniac.<br>Becca knew all of it.  
>She'd never breathed a word to Quinn.<br>"You told me you miss your father," said Quinn. "You cried  
>and told me how much you wished you could trust him. Why<br>would you lie about that?"  
>SECRET 71<br>Becca looked stricken. "I didn't lie about that. And now—  
>now he won't even let me see him—"<br>"Oh, wait, you can tell the truth when you want something?"  
>Quinn scoffed and walked away. "Need a shoulder to cry on?<br>Forget it, Becca."  
>"Quinn, stop!"<br>"Why?" Quinn stopped and looked at her. "Why, Bex? You  
>don't give a crap about me. Not really."<br>"I do—please, stop, talk to me."  
>Becca's voice was heavy with tears, and Quinn almost broke.<br>She did know what her friend had gone through, and it hadn't  
>all been sunshine and roses.<br>Quinn knew because she'd let Becca cry on her shoulder  
>about some of it.<br>But clearly not all of it.  
>And Quinn's life wasn't exactly sunshine and roses, either.<br>Not like Becca gave a crap.  
>"I don't want to talk," said Quinn. "I've got my own secrets<br>to keep."  
>Then she burst through the double doors into the chilled air<br>waiting for her.


	7. Chapter 7

The job took too long. Good, in a way, because Nick barely  
>had time to shower, much less think about what he was<br>doing. He threw on jeans and a striped Henley before checking  
>himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess of wet clumps, and he<br>could probably stand to spend five minutes with a razor. Five  
>minutes he didn't have.<br>Stellar. He was going to show up on Adam's doorstep looking  
>like he didn't give a shit.<br>Gabriel appeared in his doorway. "I thought you had to  
>study."<br>"Library. Helping Quinn with trig." Nick couldn't meet his  
>eyes. It was easier keeping the secret from Chris and Michael,<br>but Gabriel would see right through him. Now he definitely  
>couldn't linger.<br>He grabbed a tube of hair stuff and squeezed some into his  
>hand. He ran it through his hair as he went down the steps, hoping<br>it would be enough. Then the car keys were in his hand and  
>his messenger bag was over his shoulder.<br>"Nicky—" Gabriel started.  
>"Later, okay?" Nick said. "I told her I'd pick her up at<br>eight."  
>"But—"<br>Nick shut the door in his face. Then he paused there on the  
>porch, his hand on the doorknob. For an instant, he wanted to<br>pull the door open. Gabriel knew he was hiding something, as  
>clearly as Nick had known it when Gabriel was sneaking into<br>burning houses with Hunter.  
>As clearly as Nick knew Gabriel was on the other side of this<br>door, his hand on the same doorknob, deliberating whether to  
>come after him.<br>For an instant, Nick wanted him to. He wanted Gabriel to  
>throw open the door and demand something like what the fuck<br>is going on with you, Nicky? Because then he could tell him,  
>and he wouldn't have to carry this secret around anymore.<br>The door jerked open and the knob slipped from under his  
>hand. Nick gasped and tried to hold on to his heartbeat before it<br>bolted straight out of his body.  
>Gabriel studied him, his expression fierce.<br>Nick braced himself. Tell him. Tell him tell him tell him.  
>His lips froze. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe.<br>"Hey," said Gabriel. "You tell Quinn if Tyler messes with her  
>again, I'll track him down and make him hurt for a month."<br>Right. Quinn. His girlfriend.  
>The air left Nick's lungs. He turned and stepped off the<br>porch, willing the adrenaline to get the hell out of his body.  
>"You don't even like Quinn."<br>"Yeah, but it's nice to have an excuse to go kick his ass."  
>Nick pushed the button to unlock the car and didn't say anything.<br>"Nicky," Gabriel called from the porch. His voice gained an  
>edge. "Are you mad at me about something?"<br>No. Yes. Nick had no idea.  
>"No," he called back. "Just late."<br>He started the car so he didn't have to hear what else Gabriel  
>said. But his brother's offer rolled around in his head, gaining<br>traction while he drove. Quinn wasn't even his girlfriend, so it  
>shouldn't have pissed him off.<br>But it did. Mostly because Gabriel was right: Nick hadn't  
>done anything to protect her.<br>74 Brigid Kemmerer  
>He knew being gay wasn't the equivalent of being weak, but<br>right now, it sure felt like they went hand in hand.  
>He couldn't exactly dispute it, either, not while he was sneaking<br>out to see a guy instead of avenging Quinn.  
>When he pulled into the parking lot, he killed the engine,<br>then sat there. He'd been keyed up about seeing Adam all day,  
>and now he wanted to crawl back into that proverbial closet<br>and wedge the door closed.  
>This was like physics class, where he didn't know the right<br>formulas. Adam would be expecting something from him  
>tonight, and Nick had no idea what. Was study here just code<br>for come over and make out? What if it was, and Nick missed  
>the cues? Worse, what if it wasn't?<br>He looked at the clock on the dash. Ten past eight. He was already  
>late. He could start the engine and peel out of here. Forget<br>their kiss. Forget everything.  
>Coward. First he couldn't face Gabriel, and now he couldn't<br>face Adam.  
>A hand knocked on the passenger window, and Nick jumped<br>a mile.  
>Adam stood there in the dark, his eyes shadowed and his expression<br>hidden.  
>Nick unlocked the car, and Adam climbed in without hesitation,<br>bringing the scent of cloves and oranges with him.  
>He didn't say anything, and Nick peeked over at him. He'd expected<br>loose dance clothes like last night, but Adam wore dark  
>jeans and a red T-shirt under a charcoal gray pea coat. He had a<br>messenger bag, too, beat-up brown leather that looked like it  
>would explode from the weight of whatever was inside. His expression<br>was easy, but his eyes were cautious.  
>When he spoke, his voice was gently teasing. "Do I pass<br>muster?"  
>Nick jerked his eyes away. "You look great. Good. Yeah.<br>Fine."  
>Jesus, was he going to sound like a raving idiot every time he<br>saw this guy? Me Nick. Me like boys. Me especially like how  
>you look in that pea coat.<br>SECRET 75  
>Adam smiled, and it chased some of the tension from his<br>eyes. "You look great, good, fine, too. Are you hungry?"  
>"Starving, actually." He hadn't eaten dinner before meeting<br>his brothers, and there sure hadn't been time once he'd gotten  
>home. Nick reached for the keys, but he couldn't start the car.<br>His brain was screaming at him. Public! Public! Public! He  
>didn't know whether that was better or worse than going<br>down to Adam's apartment. He had to clear his throat.  
>"Where do you want to go?"<br>"Little place up the road. Dirt cheap and always deserted because  
>they don't have a liquor license."<br>Something loosened in Nick's chest. "Sounds great."  
>Adam reached out and stopped his hand before he could start<br>the engine. "I thought maybe we could walk." He paused. "Unless  
>you think the weather won't hold. It's windy. Might rain."<br>Nick looked at Adam's hand on his wrist. "It won't rain."  
>The wind welcomed him into the outdoors, kicking up to<br>swirl around him. He could feel rain on the air, but a distant  
>promise, nothing they'd have to worry about for hours yet. He<br>was glad for the chance to walk. With a destination and a task  
>and his element feeding him power, his brain relaxed a little.<br>Until Adam said, "You were sitting in your car for a while."  
>Wind rushed between darkened buildings to form tiny whirlwinds<br>from the dead leaves along the sidewalk. Nick fed energy  
>into the air, sending them spinning higher. Clouds blocked the<br>starlight overhead, making their walk very dark between streetlamps.  
>"I didn't realize you'd be waiting for me."<br>"I wasn't. Not really." Adam paused, and that hint of uncertain  
>tension found his voice. "I figured I could use a walk either way."<br>Either way. Nick took a second to figure that out. Adam had  
>thought Nick was standing him up. Then he'd seen him sitting<br>in the car—quite obviously not getting out. Shame took Nick by  
>the shoulders and shook him. He was disappointing everyone<br>today.  
>"I'm sorry I was late," he said.<br>"Don't be. You're here." But Adam rubbed at the back of his  
>neck, leaving Nick to wonder how much of that was true.<br>76 Brigid Kemmerer  
>They fell into silence again. Nick let the air swirl around<br>them, seeking answers about Adam's mood. Waiting for some  
>signal of how to proceed.<br>"I didn't mean to ambush you," Adam finally said.  
>Nick looked over, confused.<br>"When you were sitting in your car. Were you thinking of  
>leaving?"<br>Nick inhaled to lie, but then thought better of it. He nodded.  
>Adam took that at face value, but he kept walking. "When I<br>saw you sitting there, I thought about doing the same thing."  
>Nick ran that scenario through his head. Finally getting the<br>guts to walk down to Adam's apartment and finding no one  
>home.<br>That—that would have stung. Given the thoughts he'd been  
>having in the car, he probably would have deserved it.<br>"I'm glad you didn't," Nick said, his voice rough.  
>"Just because I'm out doesn't mean I don't care, Nick."<br>Nick. It was the first time he'd heard Adam say his name, and  
>it sounded like an accusation.<br>"I know that," he said tightly.  
>"If you're not ready for this," Adam continued, his voice gaining<br>momentum from anger, "I get it. Trust me, I get it. If you want  
>to walk away, it's fine. But don't string me along while you—"<br>"Jesus," Nick snapped. "I'm not." He rounded on Adam,  
>reaching to grab his arm, to stop him, to confront him.<br>But Adam was suddenly five feet away, his back to the darkened  
>building, his shoulders tight, his hands curled into fists.<br>Breath left his mouth in quickened bursts.  
>Nick held still for a moment. Then he closed the distance between<br>them, stopping when he sensed Adam was going to back  
>away again—or fight. His fists were up now, his expression resolved.<br>Nick kept his own hands low. "Did you think I was going to  
>hit you?" he said carefully. "I wasn't. I wouldn't."<br>Adam studied him. His expression reminded Nick of last  
>night, when Adam had almost flinched from his touch. Then the<br>SECRET 77  
>fear faded, quickly replaced by something closer to embarrassment.<br>He turned and started walking again.  
>"Whoa." Nick caught his arm and hauled him to a stop.<br>Adam stopped, his eyes locked straight ahead. His arm was  
>tense under Nick's hand.<br>Nick moved closer and dropped his voice. "I'm not trying to  
>string you along," he said quietly. "I thought about leaving, but<br>I wasn't going to. I couldn't stop thinking about you all day."  
>Adam turned his head to meet his eyes, and Nick felt his<br>cheeks go warm.  
>"All day?" said Adam.<br>"I failed a physics test because of it."  
>A shadow of that easy confidence sneaked back into Adam's<br>voice. "I blew a chem lab tonight because of you."  
>Nick's eyes widened. "A chem lab?"<br>"Yeah. I had class. I told you."  
>"I thought you meant dance."<br>"I wish. I suck at chemistry."  
>Nick loosened his grip on Adam's arm, but he didn't let go.<br>"I'm great at chemistry."  
>Adam's eyes flicked to his lips. "I bet."<br>Nick hesitated, not wanting to damage the mood, which felt  
>precariously balanced between flirtation and forgiveness. But it<br>also felt like a big old heap of evasion. "Can we talk about what  
>just happened?"<br>Adam pulled away and started walking. Nick fell into step  
>beside him, expecting Adam to need to walk to talk. But then<br>his companion remained silent.  
>Nick didn't press. He had enough experience from his brothers—<br>to say nothing of Quinn—to know that people wouldn't  
>talk until they were damn good and ready. By the time they<br>made it to the tiny restaurant, he no longer expected an answer.  
>The place looked like it didn't know what it wanted to be.<br>Red-checked tablecloths, cheap metal chairs, and all manner of  
>food on the menu, from dim sum to stromboli. Soft lighting did<br>nothing to hide the fact that they were the only patrons in the  
>place.<br>78 Brigid Kemmerer  
>After they were seated at a four top, with sodas in front of<br>them, Nick was desperate for anything to lighten the mood.  
>"Fast service," he said wryly. "Do you want me to accuse you<br>of dazzling the waitress?"  
>Adam choked on his soda. "Is that a Twilight reference? How<br>is it possible your brothers don't know you're gay?"  
>Every time he said that, Nick wanted to flinch as hard as Adam<br>had on the street. "I said a girlfriend was making me read it."  
>Adam lost the smile. "Quinn said you've had a lot of girlfriends."<br>Nick shrugged and wondered what the safe answer to that  
>was. "'A lot' is relative, I guess." He paused, wondering what else<br>Quinn had said about him. "And you?"  
>"Girlfriends? None."<br>Nick smiled but wondered if they were going to play this  
>game all night. The entire rhythm of the evening felt off, like<br>they'd hit the wrong note right from the start, and they'd never  
>really found the melody.<br>Adam unstrapped his bag and pulled out a chemistry textbook,  
>followed by a spiral notebook. "Didn't you say you<br>wanted to study?"  
>So they weren't going to talk about anything of substance at<br>all. Nick pulled out his calculus textbook, glad he'd brought it  
>along. He worked through the three homework questions he'd<br>missed, hoping he could convince the teacher to give him half  
>credit. Then he moved on to tonight's assignment.<br>Adam made for quiet company. Nick had worried it would  
>be uncomfortable, but the restaurant was warm, the French dip<br>sandwiches were exceptional, and an hour had passed before he  
>realized it. He shoved his calculus textbook back into his bag<br>and reached for physics.  
>The air whispered frustration, so Nick glanced across at his<br>companion's notebook. Adam hadn't lied about hating chemistry.  
>It looked like it hated him back, from the amount of cross<br>outs and eraser marks on the paper.  
>"Balancing equations?" Nick said.<br>Adam glanced up. "No. Murdering equations."  
>SECRET 79<br>"No offense, but why are you taking chemistry if you hate it?  
>I thought you were all gung ho about dance."<br>"I am, but I'd like something to fall back on. I need a science  
>credit." He shrugged. "It was this or biology, and I didn't want<br>to cut up dead animals."  
>Something to fall back on. Another thing Nick admired<br>about him. "You want me to take a look?"  
>"Sure."<br>Nick expected him to turn the book around, like Gabriel  
>would, but Adam didn't move. So Nick took his pencil and<br>moved to the other side of the table.  
>The table wasn't tiny, but it was small enough that his thigh<br>brushed Adam's when he sat, and he could feel the warmth of  
>his body in the space between him and the wall.<br>Chemistry. Focus.  
>"Here," he said, writing the first formula on a new line. "I<br>think you're trying to make it too complicated. I always find it  
>easiest to start with the element that only shows up in one reactant<br>and product. Like here, it's oxygen, so double the H-two-O  
>on the right side of the arrow."<br>"Then I have too many hydrogens."  
>"So double it on the left." Adam did, and Nick said, "Now<br>look at the carbon."  
>They worked through the rest of that problem and then<br>started a new one. Nick walked him through that, too. By the  
>third, he shut up and let Adam work through it alone.<br>"It seems so simple now." Adam glanced up. "You're a good  
>teacher."<br>Nick flushed at the praise, but he shrugged it off. "Do you  
>want to do another one?"<br>"Sure." Adam started writing. When he got to the end of the line,  
>he hesitated, his pencil stopping on the paper. He kept his eyes<br>down. "Do you remember how I told you that my parents wanted  
>me to pretend to be straight, after I got out of the hospital?"<br>"Yeah."  
>"It sucked. I was determined to show them just how gay I<br>80 Brigid Kemmerer  
>was. I started dating someone right away. It wouldn't have mattered<br>who it was; I needed a guy so I could show my parents  
>that I was in a relationship. At the studio where I danced then,<br>they rented the space once a week to a martial arts school. One  
>of the instructors was a guy named Matthew. Cute as hell, built<br>like he was born on steroids—you know the type."  
>Adam set the pencil down and stopped there. His eyes were<br>still on the chemistry paper. "I flirted with him," he said. "I flirt  
>with everyone—gay, straight, whatever, I'm not shy."<br>Nick remembered. Adam had flirted with him the first night  
>they met, before he even had a clue that Nick might be interested<br>in boys.  
>"Was he straight?" Nick said.<br>"I thought he was. But he wasn't. He'd ignore me when I  
>flirted in public, but once he caught me in the back room and<br>asked me out. I didn't know anything about him, really, but he  
>was hot, I was shallow, and that was that."<br>That wasn't that. Adam's voice had gained tension, and Nick  
>waited, listening, glad for the privacy and the dim lighting.<br>"He wasn't out," Adam said, "but he was a few years older.  
>He had his own place, so we only went there. The first time he<br>kissed me, he was all hesitant and tentative. I thought it was  
>charming. When he invited me back the next night, of course I<br>went." He shook his head. "He kissed me again, but this time it  
>went further—a lot further."<br>Adam stopped again, his jaw clenched now.  
>Nick wanted to touch him, to offer some comfort. He wasn't<br>sure Adam would accept it. His brothers sure wouldn't, and he  
>wasn't exactly rolling in experience with comforting other guys.<br>"So we're in his apartment," Adam said, his voice very low,  
>"and he's practically naked, and he begs me to take care of him.<br>He's hot and sweet and nice, and I'm into him, so I do. And we  
>lie there for like thirty seconds, and I'm thinking I've finally<br>found someone special. Instead, he tells me to get the fuck out  
>of his apartment. I'm confused, right? Like, what the hell. But<br>SECRET 81  
>clearly I wasn't moving fast enough, because he punched me in<br>the stomach and slammed me into the wall beside his door."  
>Nick's breath caught. He wasn't sure where he'd thought this<br>story was going, but—that wasn't it.  
>Adam looked up. He met Nick's eyes and quickly looked<br>away, ashamed. "This is insane. I can't believe I'm telling you  
>this. I'm sorry. I'll shut up."<br>Nick reached out and touched his cheek, bringing his face  
>back around. Adam's eyes closed and his breath shuddered, but<br>he didn't pull away.  
>"Don't shut up," Nick said softly. "Talk. Tell me."<br>Adam pulled Nick's fingers away from his face, but then he  
>kept a death grip on his hand. "It happened too fast. He was on<br>his knees apologizing, comforting me before I even knew what  
>hit me. He said he snapped, that nothing like that had ever happened<br>before. And you know what's really insane? I believed  
>him. I let him buy me dinner. I thought he was genuinely sorry.<br>And when he asked me to come back the next night, I went. He  
>was sweet, he was charming—it was fine. But a week later, the<br>exact same thing happened.  
>"So here I'm dating a guy who's beating the shit out of me, the<br>exact thing my parents warned me about, and I couldn't tell them  
>because it would be one more thing to reinforce what they<br>wanted. And the worst part is that I started to believe I deserved  
>it. Or that it was normal. That it was something all gay relationships<br>went through. Like aggression is just part of the package or  
>something. Besides—what was I supposed to do? Complain that<br>another guy was beating me up? Do you know what that sounds  
>like?"<br>Nick knew exactly what that sounded like. "You're not  
>weak," he said.<br>"Oh, I was. This went on for a long time. I never knew what  
>would set him off. Some days he was wonderful, and I'd think it<br>was all in my head. He would cry and tell me how he wanted so  
>badly to be better. Other days he was . . . terrifying. I told him I<br>didn't want to see him anymore, and he said he'd tell everyone  
>that I was sexually harassing him, that I was some kind of de-<br>82 Brigid Kemmerer  
>viant, that I shouldn't be allowed to work with kids. I loved my<br>job. I didn't know what to do." Adam looked up. His eyes were  
>shining, but he wasn't crying. "He was smart, too. He knew<br>how to hit where it wouldn't show. I'd be too sore to dance, but  
>there wouldn't be a mark on me. I remember once I threw up<br>blood, and I wanted to go to the hospital. He said he'd tell them  
>I had HIV. I don't—I've never—I . . . My dad would have found<br>out, and I couldn't—"  
>He broke off. His hand was tight on Nick's. He took a long<br>breath, steadying himself. "I couldn't go. After that, I was scared  
>to tell anyone anything. For three months. Then he was offered a<br>job somewhere else, and he moved. That was it. I didn't even  
>solve my own problem. It just went away."<br>Nick moved closer, breathing along Adam's neck. "I'm  
>sorry," he said. He touched Adam's face again. "I'm sorry."<br>"It was a long time ago. I've never told anyone." But his  
>voice was still heavy. He brushed Nick's hand away and started<br>to put some distance between them. "I can't believe I told you."  
>Nick caught him with a hand against his neck, but gently, so<br>Adam could move if he really wanted to. "I won't hurt you."  
>When Adam didn't resist, Nick stroked his thumb along his jaw<br>and put his forehead against his temple. The waitress could  
>probably see them, but he couldn't make himself care, not now.<br>"I understand now. I won't hurt you."  
>Adam shook his head and gave a choked laugh. "You asked<br>earlier about boyfriends? None, since him. I'll go out and have a  
>good time, but I never go to anyone's place. I never bring anyone<br>back to mine."  
>Nick drew back so he could look into Adam's eyes. "Except<br>me."  
>"Except you." Adam paused. "You know when I first knew I<br>was going to fall for you?"  
>Nick shook his head.<br>"On the beach, when we were rescuing Quinn. That one guy  
>was going to hit me, and you got in front of him. You took the<br>hit. I'd never seen anyone do anything so brave in my life. Especially  
>not for me."<br>SECRET 83  
>"I'm not brave," said Nick. "Not at all."<br>"You're letting me hang all over you in a restaurant. I'd say  
>that's pretty brave."<br>Nick smiled. "A deserted restaurant. And you're not hanging  
>all over me. I think you're the brave one, putting up with all<br>that. I'm in . . . in awe of you." Nick felt heat crawl up his  
>cheeks again, but he couldn't offer anything less than honesty<br>now. Not after that. "You've got your whole life together. You  
>know what you want, and you're even making a backup plan.<br>I've got a drawer full of college letters that I'm afraid to open,  
>and I'm living with four guys who don't know I'm . . . ah . . ."<br>"Say it," said Adam.  
>Nick shut his eyes and sighed. "Gay. I'm gay."<br>"See? Brave."  
>"I'm not—"<br>Adam kissed him. Gently, his mouth moving slowly against  
>Nick's. He pulled away before too long.<br>"Thanks for listening," he said quietly.  
>"Thanks for telling me."<br>"You boys need anything else?"  
>Nick started. The older waitress was there beside the table.<br>He hadn't heard her approach. Worse—he hadn't felt her approach.  
>Would she say something? He should probably start<br>disentangling himself from Adam. His voice wouldn't work and  
>his face felt like his cheeks were going to burn clean off.<br>"No, thanks," Adam said. He sounded amused.  
>She ripped a piece of paper from her pad and set it on the<br>table. "You two are just the cutest ever."  
>Nick froze. She didn't care. They'd been head to head at this<br>table, and she hadn't batted an eye.  
>Adam winked at her. "Sounds like someone's looking for a tip."<br>"Here's a tip," she said. "Don't flirt with old married ladies  
>when you've got a sure thing in your arms."<br>"Am I the sure thing in this scenario?" said Nick.  
>"I don't know," Adam said. "Are you?"<br>The waitress laughed and left them with the check.  
>84 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"She didn't care," said Nick softly. "I know it's stupid, but I  
>thought—"<br>"What, that people would come out with pitchforks? Flaming  
>torches?"<br>"Maybe."  
>Adam kissed him on the cheek. "You're adorable. People surprise<br>you sometimes. Especially when you give them the  
>chance."<br>The words hit Nick hard, the way words you need to hear  
>usually do. He held them in his head for examination later.<br>When they walked back to Adam's apartment, he reached  
>out to hold the other boy's hand. And Nick didn't care one bit<br>who saw.


	8. Chapter 8

Quinn stretched her leg against a tree and shivered. She slid  
>her fingers across the face of her iPod, looking for a<br>playlist to suit her mood. The strip mall parking lot was tempting,  
>but off limits thanks to that dickhead Tyler. The lot looked<br>empty under the halogen lights, but that didn't mean anything.  
>She'd stay right here at the edge of these woods, where she<br>could see without being seen.  
>She didn't have any transportation, so it wasn't like she could<br>go anywhere else. Her brother was out tonight—but her mom  
>wasn't.<br>Quinn was waiting her out. She could sneak back into the  
>house after midnight. Her mom usually wasn't conscious that<br>long.  
>She'd hoped Nick would want to go out tonight, but he'd<br>mentioned he was meeting Adam to "study"—sure—and Quinn  
>didn't want to get in the middle of that.<br>She wondered if he was avoiding her after that stupid, stupid  
>kiss. She blushed now, remembering. What had she been thinking?<br>You were thinking that he was really your boyfriend, instead  
>of a pretend one.<br>Her phone chimed. She checked it. Becca.  
>Please. Talk to me. I'm sorry.<br>Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved the phone into her bag.  
>A branch snapped somewhere off to her right, and she froze,<br>her eyes searching the darkness.  
>Nothing. Whatever.<br>She found Adam's audition song, melodic R&B with a driving  
>beat.<br>Then she threw herself into the routine.  
>The ground was uneven here, and she had to watch out for<br>branches, but she had sound in her ears and cold air on her skin.  
>One of her favorite things about dance was that she could do it<br>anywhere.  
>Her body was getting stronger from working with Adam, but<br>she still had miles to go before she'd reach his level. Her turns  
>needed more balance, and she still missed the beat in the more<br>complicated moves. When Adam had first asked her to be his  
>partner for his audition piece, she'd been ready to laugh it off.<br>She had no real professional training, no expensive dance  
>clothes or private instructors or anything to bring to the table<br>other than raw talent. But even after he'd convinced her, she  
>hadn't been ready for his work ethic. His intensity.<br>Adam wasn't fucking around. He wanted this scholarship.  
>And the stronger Quinn got, the more she realized she<br>wanted him to get it, too. She didn't want to let him down.  
>She wanted to accomplish something, for once in her life.<br>She spun too fast and landed hard, stumbling. Damn. She  
>used the slider on her iPod to back the song up a bit, then<br>launched herself into motion.  
>The stars whirled above her, bearing witness to her dance.<br>She wished Nick were here to feed power into the air. She could  
>feel it when he did that now, driving energy into the music until<br>she couldn't help leaping higher and moving with every beat.  
>She tried to find that same energy now, without him, but the<br>woods were empty, the wind's only power the ability to keep her  
>cold.<br>Wham. Something slammed into her, and the music died instantly.  
>Quinn hit the ground before she realized she was falling.<br>Then the earbuds were yanked free of her ears, something  
>SECRET 87<br>snapped at her waistband, and footsteps were tearing away  
>through the underbrush.<br>Wtf?  
>Then she got it.<br>"Come back here!" she screamed, running after the thief.  
>She'd saved every penny for months to buy that iPod. "Stop!<br>Stop!"  
>Her assailant had a pretty good head start. This had to be a<br>guy, from the size and the way he moved. He bolted into the  
>street without looking. Quinn followed.<br>A horn blared and she stumbled. Headlights filled her eyes,  
>tires screeched, but the impact never came. Quinn made it to the<br>curb and kept running, tearing across the parking lot of the strip  
>mall.<br>"Thief!" she shouted. "Somebody stop him!"  
>Somebody. Like there was anyone out here.<br>He was getting away, gaining ground. The farthest part of the  
>strip mall was pitch-black now, dark store fronts featuring a pediatric<br>dentist's office and an eyewear shop. Beyond that, more  
>woods. If he made it past the edge of the shops and into the<br>trees, she'd never catch him.  
>"Stop, you asshole!"<br>Oh, who was she kidding? She was never going to catch this  
>guy. He was twenty feet from the curb leading to the woods. She<br>was at least fifty and her lungs were burning.  
>But then, as he neared the corner, a figure stepped out of the<br>shadowed walkway and knocked him flat. Just pow! a solid  
>strike and the thief hit the ground. Flat on his back. She could<br>hear him moaning from here.  
>"Yeah!" Quinn cried. Mr. Big Fists was getting a kiss for this.<br>With tongue.  
>But then her savior pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the thief<br>and cocked the hammer.  
>Quinn skidded to a stop. "Holy shit."<br>A step forward brought the gunman into the light. Short  
>blond hair, fierce expression. Tyler.<br>88 Brigid Kemmerer  
>The guy on the ground was scrambling back. "You're crazy,<br>man! It's a frigging iPod! You're—"  
>"Shut up." Tyler held a lit cigarette in his free hand. He put it<br>to his lips and inhaled, but he didn't lower the weapon. "Give it  
>back to her."<br>The thief—thin and filthy and not much older than she was—  
>shoved her iPod across the concrete. He'd probably scraped the<br>crap out of the case.  
>She didn't move to take it. She couldn't take her eyes off that<br>gun. Her breathing felt too quick.  
>She should be running now, right? Saying thank you? What<br>the hell was happening here?  
>Tyler jerked his head toward the road. "Get out of here,<br>punk." When the thief didn't move fast enough, Tyler made a  
>threatening move. The kid fought for his footing and ran, his<br>feet scraping pavement.  
>Quinn kind of wished she could swipe the iPod and tiptoe<br>away.  
>Tyler slid the gun into a holster at the small of his back and<br>took a long drag from his cigarette. "You going to take that or  
>what?"<br>Her iPod was on the ground right in front of his boots, and  
>Quinn really didn't want to get that close. She remembered the<br>burning pain of his palm on her forearm. She remembered Nick  
>telling her that Tyler had roughed up Becca.<br>Then again, Becca sure hadn't thought he was scary enough  
>to warrant telling Quinn about it.<br>"Come on," said Tyler, a dark smile on his lips. "If you don't  
>have music, I can't enjoy the free show anymore."<br>"What does that mean?"  
>His eyes flicked at the woods across the street.<br>Screw him. She turned her back and started walking. "Go to  
>hell."<br>"I think maybe a thank-you is in order."  
>"I think maybe a fuck you is in—"<br>"Would you take the stupid iPod?"  
>SECRET 89<br>She whirled, hearing him right behind her. He was closer than  
>she was ready for, and her breath rushed out of her chest.<br>In his hand was her beat-up iPod.  
>She hesitated, then took it. She wanted to fling it at him, but<br>pride wilted in the face of practicality. It would take her forever  
>to gather enough money to get another one. The case was<br>scratched but unbroken, and the screen lit up when she pressed  
>the button.<br>He didn't move back, and she finally had to, lest he think she  
>liked being this close to him.<br>Tyler took another draw on his cigarette. The glow lit his  
>cheeks and turned his eyes haunting. "Scared of me, baby girl?"<br>"Are you aware you sound like a douche bag?"  
>He laughed, blowing smoke through his nose. "Where's your<br>boyfriend?"  
>"None of your business. Have another cigarette?"<br>His eyebrows went up. "You want one?"  
>No. She didn't. She'd only ever smoked once. But she had<br>nowhere else to go and nothing else to do and she needed something  
>to do with her hands before they started shaking.<br>She gave Tyler a look. "Yeah. You have one or not?"  
>He pulled a pack from his back pocket and shook one free.<br>"Do you have a lighter?"  
>"No. Don't you?"<br>He gave her half a smile, then put the new cigarette to his  
>lips. He inhaled slowly, and after a moment the end glowed red<br>and burned. A fresh burst of nicotine hit the air. Then he pulled  
>it out of his mouth and held it out to her.<br>Quinn stared despite herself. "Gross."  
>And somehow a little sexy, but she'd put his gun to her head<br>before admitting that.  
>He cocked an eyebrow. "You were sitting next to a Dumpster<br>last night, and now you're afraid of a little spit. Jesus. You want  
>it or not?"<br>His voice was full of derision, but challenge, too. Scared of  
>me, baby girl?<br>She took the cigarette out of his hand and put it to her lips.  
>90 Brigid Kemmerer<br>For a second she was worried she'd do the moronic thing and  
>explode with coughing, but she inhaled slowly, letting the<br>warmth travel into her lungs. She expected it to taste nasty, but  
>it didn't.<br>"Why are you out here with a gun?" she asked, easing the  
>smoke out. "Isn't that against some law?"<br>He looked vaguely affronted. "I have a permit, and I'm protecting  
>my property. No, it's not against some law."<br>"This strip mall is yours. Seriously. And you have all this  
>money and nothing better to do than wander around dark parking<br>lots pointing guns at petty thieves? Yeah, okay."  
>"This strip mall belongs to my parents," he said, taking another<br>long inhale on his cigarette. Smoke curled away from him  
>into the night sky. "And we've been having a problem with vandals,<br>so I've been hanging out the last few nights."  
>"Gee, I'm so sorry for you."<br>"You've kinda got a chip on your shoulder, huh?"  
>Yeah, the size of Rhode Island. Quinn flicked ash from the<br>end of her cigarette and didn't respond. She hadn't inhaled again,  
>and it was just burning away between her fingers.<br>"What were you dancing to?" he asked.  
>The question took her by surprise, but his voice was challenging<br>again, so she fired up the song on her iPod and held out  
>an earbud.<br>He listened for a long moment, then nodded and handed the  
>cord back. "Nice."<br>This was so bizarre. "Glad it meets with your approval."  
>"Why were you dancing in the woods?"<br>"I'm helping a friend get a scholarship."  
>"Oh, yeah? Why aren't you getting a scholarship?"<br>"I don't think that's really any of your business."  
>He shrugged and backed up to lean against the steel beam<br>supporting a roof over the walkway. He took another drag and  
>blew out smoke rings. "My sister was a dancer."<br>His sister. Nick had told her Tyler's sister had died in the rock  
>quarry years ago.<br>SECRET 91  
>"A singer, too," said Tyler. "She was always on my parents to<br>let her move to New York after graduation."  
>Quinn wanted to snap at him, something like, So she couldn't<br>wait to get away from you, either? But his voice held this odd  
>note that she couldn't identify. Not quite sadness, but something<br>close. Resignation, maybe. She didn't want to mock it.  
>"Full of piss and vinegar," Tyler said. "She'd probably laugh<br>her ass off to hear you talk to me now."  
>"I'd probably like her."<br>"Maybe." He crushed out the end of his cigarette and  
>glanced down at hers, hanging abandoned in her hand. "You<br>going to let that burn away to nothing?"  
>She quickly took another draw. Too fast. Smoke flooded her<br>lungs and she choked hard, fighting for air.  
>"Sit," said Tyler, plucking the cigarette from her fingers.<br>"Breathe."  
>She sat and tried to inhale while tears streamed from her eyes.<br>He dropped onto the curb beside her.  
>"All talk," he said. "Should've guessed." Then he took up<br>her cigarette and smoked it himself.  
>Quinn stared at him, confused by this sudden intimacy.<br>"Seriously," he said suddenly. "What's with the lurking behind  
>the 7-Eleven last night?"<br>She shrugged and looked out at the dark parking lot.  
>"Homeless?" he asked, his voice matter-of-fact.<br>"No," she snapped.  
>"Do those Merrick morons know you're out here?"<br>Those "Merrick morons" probably thought she was out with  
>Nick. "What do you care?"<br>"So that's a no." He snorted, blowing smoke. "Not surprised  
>that one of those idiots can't take care of a girlfriend."<br>Like Tyler could? "I bet they'll be disappointed they don't  
>live up to your standards."<br>His voice turned dark. "They know what I think of them."  
>"No kidding." She held up her arm. "I got a firsthand demonstration,<br>you asshole."  
>92 Brigid Kemmerer<br>He rounded on her so fast that Quinn almost fell back on the  
>step. He was right in her space. "You think you know what<br>you're talking about? You don't know shit. You have no idea  
>what they've done to me."<br>Quinn punched him in the chest, giving him a solid shove.  
>"Maybe they did, but I never did anything to you. Back off."<br>When he didn't move, she put her face almost against his and reinforced  
>her voice with steel girders. "Back. Off."<br>He held her there, probably trying to use his size or his attitude  
>to intimidate her. Like he had anything on her home life.<br>She stared back at him, waiting.  
>He finally shifted forward and put the cigarette to his lips<br>again.  
>"They killed my sister," he said quietly.<br>No way was he buying her pity from a sob story she'd already  
>heard. "Nick told me you chased her and Michael into the<br>quarry."  
>"He's a fucking Earth. How the hell do you think that rockslide<br>started?"  
>She stared into the face of his obvious fury and gave him the<br>only answer she had. "I don't know. I wasn't there."  
>Tyler seemed to deflate. He crushed out the rest of his cigarette<br>and looked out at the night, rubbing a hand across the  
>back of his head.<br>Then he looked over. "You hungry?"  
>Yes. She was starving. "I'm not going anywhere with you."<br>"Why?"  
>"Because I think you're a psychopath."<br>He laughed softly. "I was going to get some taquitos from  
>7-Eleven. Want some?"<br>Quinn thought about it. If she said no, it might be hours before  
>she'd get the chance to eat. And what was the difference between<br>smoking with Tyler and eating with him? At least if she  
>was with him, no one was trying to steal her stuff.<br>Sad that her life had devolved into choosing between lesser  
>evils.<br>SECRET 93  
>Her cell phone chimed again. Nick this time.<br>You ok?  
>She thought about it.<br>All OK. Have fun with your boyfriend. xoxo  
>"Taquitos sound great," said Quinn. She climbed to her feet.<br>"I like mine extra spicy."


	9. Chapter 9

Quinn had never sat on the roof of a strip mall before. She'd  
>never really sat on the roof of any building before. But<br>Tyler obviously had: a few nylon folding chairs sat by the edge  
>of the roof, and there was even a little table between them.<br>She sprawled in one of the chairs and stretched her legs out in  
>front of her. "So is this where the magic usually happens?"<br>Tyler cracked open a bottle of Mountain Dew and sprawled  
>in the chair beside her. "The magic?"<br>"Is this where you bring girls? Promise to show them the  
>world?"<br>He waved a hand at the trees, the suburban sprawl. "Oh,  
>yeah. Check out the world of Arnold, Maryland." He let out a<br>low whistle. "You can almost see the waste disposal plant from  
>here. Want to take your pants off yet?"<br>"It's hard not to."  
>"I don't usually bring girls up here. I have an apartment for<br>that."  
>An apartment. For about two seconds, Quinn wondered how<br>old he was, then decided she didn't care. Nick had said he was  
>younger than Michael, so he couldn't be older than twenty-two.<br>He definitely wasn't in high school. "I feel so special."  
>He stood and walked to the edge. The lights from below<br>caught his features and made them glow. "It's easier to keep an  
>eye on things from up here."<br>"What kind of vandals are you looking for?"  
>He came back to the chair. "Bored teenagers, mostly. It's<br>quiet up here, too. I can get a lot of studying done."  
>Studying. College. Check.<br>"Two chairs," she said.  
>"I've got a friend who works at the Sunglass place. Sometimes<br>he brings a six-pack and we shoot the shit." He paused.  
>"You have a lot of questions about my rooftop habits."<br>Quinn shrugged. "Just trying to figure out how to avoid you."  
>He looked at her. "Yeah, you look like you're trying really<br>hard. Let's cut the crap. What's really up with you and Merrick?"  
>"He's busy, that's all. What do you care?"<br>"Maybe I don't want to babysit his girlfriend."  
>"Fuck you." Quinn stood with enough force to make the<br>chair scrape back a few inches.  
>Tyler caught her arm. "Stop. I'm messing with you."<br>She turned fierce eyes his way. "No one needs to babysit me."  
>"No kidding." His voice softened, just a little, just enough.<br>"Sit down. Eat your taquito. I don't like them extra spicy."  
>She sat in the chair and unwrapped the paper, taking a small<br>bite from the end. It was like a heart attack rolled up in a tortilla  
>and fried, but she was starving. "What's really up with you and<br>Merrick?"  
>His voice was bitter. "You already know."<br>"No," she said. "I don't think I do."  
>"I don't want to talk about them."<br>"Do you really want to kill them?"  
>"I don't need to kill them. That's what the Guides are for."<br>"Would you do it, if you could?"  
>"I don't really want to go to prison for doing someone<br>else's job."  
>"Aren't you a big bad Fire Elemental? Couldn't you burn<br>down their house or something?"  
>"No!" he snapped with sudden fury. "That wouldn't make<br>96 Brigid Kemmerer  
>me any better than them. That's the whole reason they're supposed<br>to be put to death. They are a danger. Don't you get  
>that?"<br>She ignored his sudden vehemence, keeping her voice level.  
>"Do you really think they deserve to die, for what they are?"<br>He didn't say anything for a long while, twisting the bottle of  
>Mountain Dew in his hands, making the plastic crackle. He sat<br>that way for so long that she didn't think he was going to say  
>anything.<br>Finally, he said, "You were right. When my sister died, she  
>was with that douche bag. My friends and I were going after<br>them. But I didn't start that fucking rockslide. And even if Mike  
>Merrick didn't start it, he sure as hell didn't stop it." His voice<br>tightened. "That rock hit her, and he didn't even get her out of  
>the water in time. He let her die, okay? So if someone wants to<br>come to town and kill them, I'm sure as hell not going to get in  
>their way. If that makes me a psychopath, fine. There's no secret<br>about how I feel."  
>"No secret," she replied. "I like that."<br>He turned and looked at her, eyebrows raised.  
>Quinn shrugged. "My life is full of secrets. Sometimes I'm<br>sick of keeping them." She paused, wondering if she was stupid  
>to be here with Tyler. He hated the Merricks, that much was obvious.<br>It was probably a violation of her friendship with Nick  
>that she was even sitting here.<br>But she could hear every ounce of pain in Tyler's voice when  
>he spoke about what had happened to his sister. Could she<br>blame him for that? If someone contributed to the death of  
>someone in her family, then wandered around town like they<br>hadn't done anything wrong, how would she have dealt with it?  
>Well, if someone did something to her older brother, she'd<br>probably send them a thank-you note.  
>She thought of Tyler's anger in the driveway, when he'd confronted<br>Nick. Was some of that pain? Resentment? Tyler had been  
>a dick, for sure. But then again, Nick had threatened to kill him.<br>Who was right? It didn't feel like either of them was.  
>"I'm really sorry about your sister," she said quietly.<br>SECRET 97  
>Tyler looked up at the sky. "Me, too. I was a crap brother. I<br>wish I could go back and fix it."  
>"Do you—"<br>"Hey." He looked over, and she could see emotion in his eyes.  
>"Would it be okay if we talked about something else?"<br>"Yeah." She paused. "I'm sorry."  
>He shook his head. "Stop. Something else. Anything. Talk<br>about dance. I was serious, earlier. Why aren't you trying for a  
>scholarship?"<br>"You don't really care."  
>"I do, actually. When I was watching you, I was thinking—"<br>He broke off.  
>Quinn straightened. "What were you thinking?"<br>His voice turned sheepish. "Nothing. Forget it."  
>She could only imagine what he'd been thinking. "Now you<br>definitely need to tell me. Was it that you didn't realize a full  
>grown hippo could do spins like that?"<br>His head snapped around. "What the hell are you talking  
>about?"<br>"I know I'm not built like a typical dancer."  
>"What does that even mean? Are you another one of these<br>girls who tries to live on carrots and hot water?"  
>She waved the taquito in his face. "No, but I probably<br>should be."  
>"You're insane, baby girl." He paused and rubbed at his jaw.<br>"I was thinking that Nick Merrick is one lucky bastard."  
>Quinn flushed, pleased.<br>At the same time, she felt a curl of anger. Sometimes she  
>hated being Nick's pretend girlfriend.<br>"Yeah," Tyler continued, "I don't know a whole lot about  
>dance—just what I remember from Emily—but if anyone is<br>going for a scholarship, you should be."  
>Quinn swallowed. "There's an application fee, and it's extremely<br>competitive, and I don't—it's just—"  
>"Afraid of competition?" His eyes were dark and shadowed,<br>his voice rough. "You don't strike me as the type."  
>He did not sound sexy. He did not.<br>98 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Yeah, she wasn't convincing herself. "I'm not the type to have<br>a spare hundred bucks lying around, either."  
>Tyler winced. "Sorry."<br>She shrugged and scowled out at the night. "My whole life is  
>full of almosts. I almost made it on the dance team, until the<br>bitch teacher wanted to get rid of me because of my attitude and  
>my body type. I almost made it as a cheerleader, but they all<br>called me Crisco and acted like I was white trash. I almost had a  
>great—"<br>She cut herself off. She'd almost said, I almost had a great  
>boyfriend, but then I caught Nick kissing another guy.<br>"Almost what?" said Tyler.  
>Quinn shook her head, surprised to feel tears hiding somewhere<br>behind her eyes. "Nothing. What I want always seems  
>just out of reach, you know?"<br>Tyler sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Sometimes I know exactly  
>what you mean."<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Nick's morning classes crawled by. He could barely stay  
>awake for Dr. Cutter's physics lecture. He'd come home<br>late again, dragged himself into bed, and replayed his evening  
>with Adam. Their walk. Their studying.<br>Adam's secrets.  
>After learning about that, everything had felt somewhat raw,<br>as if a scab had been scraped off too early. He'd felt the need to  
>proceed slowly, to let trust grow in the space between them. So<br>he'd come in when Adam invited him, but he'd sat on the couch  
>and sipped coffee and talked, keeping his hands to himself.<br>Nick had been worried that some of his infatuation was because  
>Adam was the first boy he had kissed, the first outlet for<br>years of repressed attraction.  
>But Adam was smart. He read everything, from genre fiction<br>to biographies to The Economist to a weekly sex advice column.  
>He could talk about all of it. Nick might have had him beat in<br>chemistry, but Adam had him by a mile in subjective analysis.  
>He'd never met someone who would genuinely care about his<br>opinion—but then expect him to defend it.  
>Nick loved it. He loved it so much it'd been hard to leave.<br>But then he'd leaned in to kiss Adam good night, and he'd  
>seen the flash of vulnerability, reminding him to tread carefully.<br>That first night, his time with Adam had been like riding a  
>runaway train, having no idea of the destination, just hurtling<br>into the darkness while clinging for dear life. Exciting and terrifying.  
>Now it felt like someone had pressed a map into his hands<br>and explained how to ease off the throttle.  
>"Earth to Nicholas. Come in, Mr. Merrick."<br>Crap. Dr. Cutter was glaring at him. What were they talking  
>about? Diagrams covered every inch of whiteboard, but Nick<br>hadn't even cracked his textbook. His notebook was open, but  
>he hadn't written anything down.<br>Nick cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. What?"  
>"I asked if you'd come up with an answer for the third question."<br>Nick took another desperate glance at his notebook, as if the  
>answers would have magically appeared. He couldn't afford to<br>piss off Dr. Cutter, who was already giving him a free pass by  
>letting him retake the unit test he'd bombed yesterday.<br>Nick looked back at the board, at the third diagram, hoping  
>it would be something he could work out in his head.<br>Yeah, right. This was AP Physics. He knew it had something  
>to do with velocity and mass, maybe—<br>"Perhaps I can explain what you've missed when you stay  
>after class."<br>Half the class sucked in a breath and looked at him.  
>Gabriel would fling his pencil down and level the teacher<br>with some snarky comment. He'd probably get himself thrown  
>out of class.<br>Nick could never do that. Shame was curling his stomach  
>into knots. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."<br>After class, Dr. Cutter was a lot less accommodating than  
>he'd been the previous day.<br>"This is an advanced placement class," he said, a slight edge  
>to his voice. "We move through the material quickly. Are you<br>having difficulty keeping up?"  
>"No," said Nick. "I'm sorry. Really, it won't happen again."<br>The teacher's eyes narrowed. "I don't really have Gabriel  
>Merrick sitting in front of me, do I?"<br>SECRET 101  
>Nick flinched. It shouldn't have been an insult, but it felt like<br>one. "No. I swear."  
>"I had to call your name three times."<br>Nick didn't know how many times he could apologize for the  
>same thing. He rubbed at his eyes. "I'm having a rough week."<br>Dr. Cutter studied him. "Are you aware you're the student  
>with the highest average in this class?" He frowned. "Or you<br>were before yesterday's test."  
>Nick pulled his hands down. He'd thought he was better than<br>average, but the highest? "No, I didn't know."  
>"And you're second in your class in AP Calc. I spoke with<br>Mrs. Rafferty. In fact . . ." He reached behind him for a folder  
>on his desk. He flipped the cover open. "Out of the entire senior<br>class, based on a weighted GPA, you're ranked fourth overall."  
>Wow. He'd had no idea.<br>He should have been proud. He wasn't. The pressure clamp  
>on his chest tightened by one notch. One more expectation he<br>had to uphold. If he were like Gabriel, Dr. Cutter wouldn't have  
>given a crap that he didn't know the answer in class.<br>"Have you started applying for colleges?" said Dr. Cutter.  
>Nick's mouth went dry. "Yeah—a few. I just—" I just have<br>their sealed responses hidden in a drawer. "I haven't heard  
>back."<br>"University of Maryland has a program that allows a few select  
>students to take college level science and math classes for<br>the spring semester. It's by teacher recommendation only. It's an  
>opportunity to get a jump start on an already competitive program."<br>Nick stared at him, unsure where this was going.  
>"I'd like to recommend you. But I also need to know you're<br>focused."  
>Reassure him. Say you're focused. Or thank you. Say thank you.<br>But he couldn't say anything. A jump start? He was terrified  
>of the prospect of leaving his brothers to start college next fall,<br>and this guy wanted to accelerate that by nine months.  
>Dr. Cutter grabbed a cardigan off the back of his desk chair<br>102 Brigid Kemmerer  
>and shivered. "It certainly got chilly in here. Do you have any<br>thoughts?"  
>Nick grabbed his bag and stood up. "I need to think about<br>it." He bolted for the door.  
>"Nick!"<br>The instinct to obey authority overrode his desire to get the  
>hell out of the classroom. Nick stopped in the doorway, but he<br>didn't turn all the way around.  
>"I don't know what's going on with you," said Dr. Cutter,<br>"but make sure it doesn't damage your chances at a future."  
>His voice wasn't unkind, and Nick swallowed.<br>Then Dr. Cutter added, "I want to make sure I recommend  
>the right student for this opportunity. Do I make myself clear?"<br>"Perfectly. Thank you."  
>He should have been excited.<br>He wasn't.  
>At lunch, he sat with his brothers and their girlfriends, but<br>Hunter and Quinn didn't show up. He didn't care what his  
>roommate was up to, but he did care about Quinn. Nick sent<br>her a quick text.  
>She responded almost immediately.<br>I'm getting study help for US History. I'll see you later. Can you  
>give me a ride to the studio tonight?<br>The studio. Adam.  
>He mentally calculated. He was supposed to help Michael on<br>Wednesdays, but they'd be done by seven-ish.  
>Sure. 7:45?<br>"What's eating you?" said Chris.  
>"Nothing," said Nick. He set the phone next to his tray and<br>drove his fork into the cafeteria meat loaf.  
>Becca leaned in against the table. "Is Quinn okay?" she asked<br>quietly. "She's really upset about the Elemental stuff."  
>SECRET 103<br>She hadn't said anything to Nick, but he knew Quinn didn't  
>want Becca to know how rough her home life had turned. And<br>maybe she was still smarting from the secrets Becca had kept.  
>Nick didn't necessarily agree with either course of action, but<br>Quinn wasn't exactly giving him all the details, either. He nodded.  
>"I'll talk to her. I'm taking her to dance tonight."<br>Gabriel snorted. "Wow, playing chauffeur. Sounds like true  
>love to me."<br>His girlfriend Layne hit him. "Leave him alone."  
>"Will you tell her I'm worried about her?" said Becca. "I<br>don't—I didn't mean to hurt her."  
>Nick gave her a reassuring look. "I'll tell her."<br>His phone chimed while he was shoveling a bite of meat loaf  
>into his mouth. Nick reached for it.<br>But then Gabriel said, "Who's Adam? And why is he asking if  
>he's going to see you tonight?"<br>Nick choked on his food.  
>Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.<br>His heart beat so quickly that he could swear all the blood  
>rushed away from his head just to keep up with it. For a horrifying<br>moment he wondered if he'd pass out from panic.  
>He needed to say something. He needed to say something<br>now before they started guessing.  
>They were all staring at him. Because they suspected something?<br>No, moron, because you're choking on meat loaf.  
>Did Gabriel sound suspicious? Why would he be suspicious?<br>What did he think?  
>"Quinn's dance partner," Nick said quickly, wheezing a little.<br>He needed to calm down, but his brain wouldn't let him stop  
>talking. "He's auditioning for a scholarship, and she's helping<br>him."  
>"Why is he asking if he'll see you?"<br>"I don't know." Nick shoved the phone in his pocket. "I  
>guess he's wondering if Quinn has a ride."<br>That was probably sufficient, but he couldn't look at any of  
>104 Brigid Kemmerer<br>them, couldn't meet their eyes to see if they'd already guessed  
>his secrets. They hadn't, right? Or had they? He was going to<br>need to look up.  
>If he'd been telling the truth, it would have felt like enough,<br>and he wouldn't have felt compelled to keep going. But he was  
>lying through his teeth, and he needed to make sure there was<br>no question of his non-relationship with Adam.  
>"He's gay," he heard himself saying. "Quinn said he has a<br>crush on me. She thought it would be funny to give him my cell  
>number."<br>What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he really say that?  
>"That's not funny," said Layne. She looked vaguely disgusted.<br>"It's not like that," said Nick quickly. His shirt felt like it was  
>sticking to the back of his neck. "He knows I'm not. It's like—<br>it's a joke now."  
>God, he needed to shut up.<br>"It's creepy," said Gabriel.  
>Nick froze. "Creepy?"<br>"A dude hitting on you? Yes. Creepy."  
>Suddenly he wanted to punch his twin.<br>Do not pick a fight over this.  
>Do not.<br>Do. Not.  
>"He's not hitting on me," Nick said tightly. "He just asked if<br>I'd be there tonight."  
>"No, he asked if he'd see you, which is creepy."<br>"Knock it off," said Becca. "He's Quinn's friend. Nick's trying  
>to defend him, and you're being a royal—"<br>Chris wrapped an arm around her neck and put his hand  
>over her mouth. "I love you, but please don't pick a fight I'm<br>going to have to finish."  
>"Oh, I'll finish it," Becca said through his fingers.<br>"No, I'll finish it," Nick snapped. He stood, grabbing his  
>tray so roughly that he almost dropped half his food on Chris.<br>"An asshole," he said to Gabriel. His throat felt tight, and it  
>hurt to talk. "You're being a royal asshole."<br>SECRET 105  
>Then he stormed away from the table and slammed the tray<br>onto one of the waiting carts.  
>"Hey, Nicky," Gabriel called after him, "remember what I<br>said about drama?"  
>Fuck him. Nick slammed through the double doors leading<br>out of the cafeteria, choking on emotion. He pinched his fingers  
>over his eyes.<br>He wished he could take it all back. Adam had trusted him  
>with a terrible secret, and now Nick had crapped all over it.<br>Making what they'd shared into a joke.  
>He wanted to storm back into that cafeteria and shake some<br>sense into his brother.  
>He wanted to call Adam and apologize.<br>He wanted to stop hearing the derision in his brother's voice.  
>The way he'd said creepy.<br>Most of all, he wanted to stop crying.  
>Creepy. Creepy creepy creepy.<br>Like he was some kind of pervert. He'd known his twin's rejection  
>would hurt, but he hadn't realized it would hurt like this,<br>a subtle stabbing a hundred times over.  
>Nick ducked into the restroom. Empty. Finally, a break. He<br>went into a stall anyway. He swiped at his eyes and dug his  
>phone out of his pocket.<br>There was Adam's message.  
>Will I see you tonight?<br>Nick squeezed his eyes shut and had to swipe at them again.  
>Then he typed back.<br>We'll be there at 8.  
>Adam's response appeared almost immediately.<br>Can't wait.  
>106 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Then a second later, another message appeared.  
>U OK?<br>Nick sniffed. He started to type back, Yeah, fine, but they'd  
>found this path of honesty, and he didn't want to veer into the<br>unknown.  
>Gabriel said gay guys are creepy.<br>As soon as he hit SEND, he felt ridiculous. He might as well  
>have typed, My brother is a big meanie. Wah.<br>But his phone buzzed almost immediately.  
>You told him?<br>Oh, shit. No. Nick shook his head, like an idiot.  
>No. Said in passing.<br>The phone didn't buzz with a new message. But the end-oflunch  
>bell rang. Nick sniffed again and got himself together. He<br>spent a minute splashing cold water on his face, until some  
>freshman guys came through the door.<br>His phone buzzed before he made it into his next class.  
>You are not creepy. You are great good fine. And brilliant and<br>patient and gentle and kind.  
>Jesus, he was going to start crying again.<br>Before he could, the phone buzzed.  
>And frankly, you're kind of hot. Do you know how hard it was to<br>keep my hands off you last night?  
>Nick laughed before he could help it.<br>SECRET 107  
>He took a seat and hid the phone under his desk, then slid his<br>fingers across the screen.  
>You, too, for what it's worth. And thank you.<br>His phone buzzed almost immediately.  
>NP. Been there. See you tonight. Don't be late this time. ;-P<br>Nick wouldn't be.


	11. Chapter 11

Quinn stumbled into the truck and flung her bag on the floor  
>between her feet. She could barely feel her toes, but somehow<br>she was supposed to spend the next two hours dancing.  
>Her hands slapped over the vents. "Can you turn the heat up?"<br>Nick obliged her, reaching over and turning the dial all the  
>way to the right. "You okay?"<br>Her fingers hurt from the cold, and she flexed them a few  
>times. "Yeah. I've just been outside for a while."<br>He reached over and took her hands, pressing them between  
>his. He brought them to his lips and blew warm air along her<br>fingers. "You should have texted me. What happened?"  
>Quinn looked up at him over their clasped hands. His face<br>was close, his blue eyes gentle and intent on hers. His clothes  
>were different from what he'd worn to school, and he looked<br>like he'd shaved again, too.  
>He looked amazing.<br>A flicker of regret hit her between the eyes. This was so unfair.  
>She pulled her hands away. "Stop looking at me like that."<br>"Like what?"  
>"You're late."<br>"I'm not. It's seven forty. Did something happen?"  
>"My brother had his stupid pothead friends over." Quinn<br>grabbed the seat belt and jerked it across her chest. "I had to get  
>out of there."<br>She'd been lucky to get her dance clothes without being  
>groped. Then her mom had gotten in her face and demanded to<br>know where she'd been last night.  
>Why, Mom? Were you conscious?<br>At the stop sign at the end of her lot, Nick turned to look at  
>her. "You could have called me. I would have come to get you."<br>"You were working." She sounded petulant and she didn't  
>care. She knew he would have come to get her, because that's<br>what perfect boyfriends did. "Did you dress up for Adam?"  
>He gestured down at his clothes. "I wouldn't call this dressing<br>up."  
>She would. Dark-washed jeans and a forest-green pullover<br>that clung to the muscles of his chest. He'd probably told his  
>brothers he was getting ready for a date with her.<br>Quinn looked out the window. She didn't know what was  
>wrong with her tonight. This felt like jealousy, but that was insane.<br>It had been her idea to keep pretend dating in the first  
>place!<br>"Are you mad at me?" Nick sounded puzzled. Almost hurt.  
>"No, Nick. I'm not mad."<br>He put an arm out. "Come here. What's wrong?"  
>She was tempted to curl against him and let him stroke her<br>hair or whisper assurances or whatever he was so good at. She  
>didn't move. "Forget it. It's fine."<br>He sighed, then swore under his breath. When they came to a  
>red light, she could feel his eyes on her.<br>"Please don't do this," he said, his voice quiet but intense.  
>"You're the only friend I can talk to. If I've fucked something<br>up, just tell me." He paused. "I know you're not talking to  
>Becca. What happened?"<br>"How do you know that?"  
>"She asked me about you."<br>"Oh, she remembers me now? That's awfully sweet of her."  
>"She's concerned about you. When you said you were all<br>right last night, I thought you were at her place."  
>110 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Well, I wasn't."  
>"Where were you? Did you go home?"<br>"No, I was waiting out my mom. I was dancing on the trail  
>by the woods." Part of her didn't want to talk about this, about<br>any of it. Another part of her wanted to throw everything in  
>Nick's face.<br>God, this sucked. He was too good looking, too nice. Throw  
>supernatural powers in the mix, and it was like fate was playing<br>a cruel joke on her. Maybe next he'd tell her he had a winning  
>lottery ticket in the glove box.<br>"You were dancing on the trail? Where?" said Nick.  
>"Where you picked me up the other night."<br>Nick blew a loud rush of air through his teeth and ran a hand  
>through his hair. "For god's sake, Quinn, are you insane?"<br>"Probably. Some punk tried to steal my iPod."  
>"You're lucky that's all that happened. Tyler lives near there.<br>He could have—"  
>"Tyler stopped him."<br>Nick's jaw tightened. The truck instantly went ten degrees  
>colder. Quinn shivered.<br>"Stop it," she snapped. "I'm already freezing."  
>He turned the vent to high, but it didn't help much. "What<br>do you mean, Tyler stopped him?"  
>It wasn't until he spoke that she realized this was what she<br>wanted. Fury in his voice. A hint of anger and jealousy and protectiveness.  
>"The kid who stole my iPod. Tyler stopped him before<br>he could take off with it. Then he bought me taquitos and  
>we drank sodas on the roof of his strip mall."<br>She flung the words at Nick like an attack. She didn't know  
>what she expected from him. A reaction, for sure. But silence<br>captured the interior of the truck cab, thick and hard to breathe.  
>His disapproval hung in the air, pressing against her skin.<br>"Please tell me you're kidding," he finally said.  
>"I'm not kidding. It was fine. He was nice."<br>"He is not nice, Quinn."  
>"Maybe not to you, but he was nice to me."<br>SECRET 111  
>"This isn't a game!" he snapped. "If he's being nice to you,<br>it's so he can use you against me."  
>"Why?" she fired back. "Because I'm only good for guys to<br>use me? That's working out really great for you, isn't it, Nick?"  
>The air in the cab moved, lifting a few strands of her hair.<br>Nick's hands clutched the steering wheel like he wished it was  
>Tyler's neck.<br>"Look," he said, his voice rough and low like gravel. "Tyler  
>is cruel. Destructive. You know this. He hit you in the face and<br>burned your arm and—"  
>"He didn't hit me in the face!"<br>Nick gave it right back to her. "Then who did, Quinn?"  
>She locked her eyes on the windshield, suddenly afraid she<br>might cry. Air moved through the cab again, warmer now, a caress  
>along her exposed skin.<br>It felt ridiculous, but she couldn't tell him. Like Becca, Nick  
>knew some of what her home life was like, but not enough.<br>They mostly knew what it had been like before: the screaming  
>matches with her mother, the father who seemed to forget he<br>had a family. But since the fire, things had changed. Money was  
>tight, and it was like her parents clung to Jake and his scholarship<br>as if that was the shining star in their lives. Like that put  
>food on the table.<br>More likely, keeping her mom away from the liquor store  
>would do a lot more for their family than Jake's stupid scholarship.<br>Not like Jake was making use of that scholarship, the way he  
>kept frying his brain cells every night.<br>If Quinn told Nick about how her mother practically drank  
>herself unconscious, or how her brother could barely string a<br>sentence together, but didn't mind strong-arming her into the  
>wall when he needed twenty bucks, Nick would step in. He'd be<br>the white knight in shining armor. He'd rescue her.  
>And then he'd kiss her on her forehead and go off with a<br>knight of his own.  
>"I can't help you if you won't talk to me," said Nick, his tone<br>resigned. "I can't believe you think that asshole could be nice—"  
>112 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"He was nice," she said icily. "You know, he still thinks  
>your brother killed his sister. He actually seemed kind of upset<br>about it."  
>"Upset. Yeah, okay." Nick looked disgusted. "Did he tell you<br>about the time he tried to kill Chris? Or the time he and his  
>friends pinned Michael down in a parking lot and took a butane<br>lighter to his face? Or how about the time he cornered me in the  
>gym and—"<br>Nick broke off, breathing fast.  
>"And what?" she said.<br>"You know what? Forget us. Think about Becca. Just ask her  
>what she thinks of Tyler."<br>Quinn didn't want to think about Becca. Lately, any time  
>thoughts of Becca entered her brain, a bunch of jealousy and resentment<br>crowded in alongside. "Well, maybe if Becca had been  
>honest all along, I'd already know her thoughts about Tyler."<br>Nick looked incredulous. "Maybe if you'd talk to her, she  
>could be! Tyler's best friend was one of the guys who tried to<br>rape Becca. Seth Ramsey. He and Drew McKay dragged her  
>onto the soccer field at Homecoming. Remember that?"<br>Quinn flinched. She remembered Becca's torn, rain-soaked  
>dress, the way her best friend had shivered in the backseat on<br>the drive home. Chris Merrick had witnessed the attack, and  
>Seth and Drew had been expelled from school. "I remember. But<br>I'm not going to hold Tyler responsible for something Seth and  
>Drew did—"<br>"Jesus, Quinn, fine. Maybe not then. But he tried to kill her  
>at Drew's party a few weeks ago. She and Chris ran into the<br>water, and Tyler tried to shoot them. With a gun."  
>Quinn didn't say anything to that. Her brain was roiling with<br>two different emotions.  
>Fear. Tyler had a gun. She'd seen it. He'd played it off by saying<br>he was protecting his property, but . . . he'd been shooting at  
>Becca?<br>Then anger. Becca had never said anything about Tyler  
>shooting at her that night.<br>SECRET 113  
>She'd never said anything about any of this.<br>Becca acted like she wanted to kiss and make up, but what  
>was the point? Quinn was so tired of all these secrets.<br>Nick kept going. "I can't believe you thought he was nice. Do  
>you just find the most destructive people you can and latch on<br>to them?"  
>She flinched. The words hurt more than anything her mom<br>had said. Anything her brother had done. Quinn had to squish  
>her eyes closed to keep the tears from planning an escape route.<br>When she was sure her voice would be steady, she looked at  
>him. "I don't know, Nick. Do I?"<br>He jerked the wheel to turn into the parking lot of the dance  
>studio, then flung the vehicle roughly into park.<br>He didn't look at her.  
>She wasn't going to wait around for him to make her feel<br>worse, so she got out of the truck and slammed the door closed.  
>Then she pushed into the nearly empty studio and stomped<br>across the wooden floor, throwing her bag on the ground beside  
>where Adam was making notes on a clipboard.<br>He looked as good as Nick, despite the bare feet and cutoff  
>sweatpants. He was all unruly hair and dark eyes and caramel<br>skin. A maroon long-sleeved tee did little to hide his build.  
>Her hair was a windblown mess, and if she took her sweatshirt<br>off, there was probably a roll of pudge hanging over the  
>waistband of her spandex capris. God only knew what state her<br>makeup was in, after nearly crying in the car.  
>Adam glanced up, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. One kind<br>word and she'd go to pieces.  
>Nick hadn't followed her.<br>She wanted to cry for all the wrong reasons.  
>Adam set the clipboard down, and she could hear it in his indrawn<br>breath, that he was going to pry. His hands were already  
>reaching out to touch her.<br>Just what she needed. Another guy who had no interest in her.  
>Quinn swiped at her eyes and grabbed her bag. "I can't do it<br>tonight, Adam. I'm sorry."  
>114 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"You—wait. Stop, Quinn—what's wrong?"  
>"Not tonight," she called back. She walked through the back<br>door to the studio, bursting into the cold night air.  
>Nick's truck was on the other side of the building—if he'd<br>bothered to wait at all. Quinn hunched her shoulders and  
>headed for the road.<br>What a dick. Everyone else got everything they wanted.  
>Becca had Chris. Nick had Adam. Quinn had nothing. She had<br>a fake boyfriend who gave her a raft of shit the first time someone  
>else was nice to her.<br>The thought rang false inside her head, and she told her subconscious  
>to stick it.<br>A metro bus was rolling up to the curb. The brakes squealed  
>into the darkness and the door creaked open. Adam took the<br>bus all the time, but Quinn had never tried. At least it was a  
>surefire escape from Nick.<br>She climbed the steps and sniffed back the last of her tears.  
>"How much?"<br>"One sixty, one way. Three fifty, ride all day."  
>All day. Quinn wondered who would spend the entire day on a<br>bus. Then she realized it was warm in here, and empty aside from  
>the driver. No one to bother her.<br>"Ride all night, too?" she asked.  
>"We stop running at two."<br>Well, there went that. She counted out a dollar sixty and  
>crammed her money into the slot.<br>Once the vehicle started moving, she realized she had no idea  
>where she was going.<br>Wasn't that always the case?  
>Her phone chimed. Nick.<br>Where did you go?  
>Quinn deleted it.<br>Then she started a new text.  
>SECRET 115<br>Playing sentry again tonight?  
>The response text took less than three seconds.<br>Why? Need rescuing, baby girl?  
>Quinn smiled.<br>Now that you mention it, yeah. I do.  
>Her phone vibrated almost immediately.<br>What's up?  
>I'm on a bus, bound for nowhere.<br>Sweetheart, it's a TRAIN bound for nowhere.  
>Her heart gave a little squee at the endearment. It meant<br>nothing and everything all at once. She smiled over her phone  
>while she texted back.<br>Well, I'm on a bus with no destination in mind.  
>Want me to come get you?<br>Quinn stopped and stared at the phone. Was this dangerous?  
>It didn't feel dangerous. Tyler had had ample opportunity to<br>hurt her last night and he hadn't.  
>When Becca had first told her about finding Chris in the middle<br>of a fight with Tyler and Seth in the parking lot, Quinn's first  
>question had been, "Why?"<br>She'd never gotten a good answer.  
>She slid her thumbs across the face of her phone.<br>Are more taquitos in my future?  
>Play your cards right and there might be a soda, too.<br>116 Brigid Kemmerer  
>His texts were teasing, so she wasn't sure if his offer to come<br>get her was genuine. She didn't want to get off the bus until she  
>knew for sure.<br>Then her phone lit up with a new message.  
>Don't make me ride the bus all night. Where should I pick you<br>up?  
>"Excuse me," she called to the driver. "What's the next<br>stop?"  
>"Annapolis Mall. West side."<br>Next stop is Annapolis Mall. West side.  
>Well look at that. You just got upgraded to a soft pretzel. See<br>you in 10.


	12. Chapter 12

Nick swore at his cell phone for the third time. Or maybe the  
>tenth. He'd lost track.<br>"Enough." Adam reached across his tiny kitchen table and  
>took the phone. He put it behind him on the counter, next to<br>where the coffeemaker was choking out a pot.  
>"I'm sorry," Nick said.<br>"It's all right. I care about her, too."  
>"I'm sorry you didn't get to rehearse."<br>Adam shrugged. "I'll make do."  
>But it bothered him. Nick could tell. Adam had less than two<br>weeks until his audition, and Quinn's temper tantrum might not  
>be for tonight only. "I shouldn't have set her off in the truck."<br>Adam frowned. "That's not your fault."  
>Nick blew out a long rush of breath and ran a hand through<br>his hair. He glanced at his phone on the counter. "I just wish  
>she'd answer."<br>"She did answer."  
>Nick gave him a look—but he was right. Quinn had answered.<br>She'd told him she was fine. Then she'd told him to fuck off.  
>"I'm worried she's going to hang out with Tyler, just to piss<br>me off."  
>The coffeemaker beeped, signaling it was done, and Adam<br>stood. "And would that piss you off?"  
>His tone was easy, but there was the tiniest bit of an edge hiding<br>there. Nick blinked and realized he was being an idiot.  
>"Yeah," he said. "But not like that. I want Quinn to be<br>happy. But Tyler is not a good guy."  
>"You think he'll hurt her?"<br>He'd hurt her once already—but Nick couldn't explain that  
>without explaining everything. "I hope not. I don't know."<br>Adam fetched milk from the refrigerator and poured some  
>into one mug, leaving the other coffee black. Nick watched this,<br>bemused that Adam had remembered how he took his coffee.  
>Adam interrupted his thoughts. "How do you know him?"<br>Nick wondered how to answer that without spilling every secret  
>he had. For the first time, he was tempted to tell Adam all<br>of it. His shoulders felt tight with tension—from the fight with  
>Quinn, from school, from his family, from living up to everyone's<br>expectations.  
>"He used to go to school with my older brother. His family<br>and my family—we don't get along."  
>Adam turned from the counter with mugs in hand. "Why?"<br>Because Tyler thinks we should be put to death for something  
>we can't control.<br>Nick rubbed at his eyes. "It's a long story."  
>He heard the mugs slide onto the table, but jumped when<br>Adam's hands landed on his shoulders.  
>"Relax," Adam said softly. "Relax." Then he pressed his<br>thumbs into the muscle there.  
>The trapezius muscle, Nick's brain supplied helpfully.<br>God, he was such a nerd.  
>Adam's hands felt amazing. Warm and strong with just<br>enough pressure behind his fingers. But instead of being relaxing,  
>his touch had Nick ready to leap out of his chair. Was this a<br>prelude to something? Obviously, right? But what if it—  
>"Relax." Adam shook him gently. "Are you really this<br>wound up over Quinn?"  
>"No. Yes. I don't know. I feel like I should go get her."<br>"Yeah, and how would that go?"  
>Tyler would want to fight. He'd win—Nick could hold his<br>SECRET 119  
>own if he had to, but he didn't fight dirty. He had Gabriel for<br>that. Tyler would get the upper hand and beat the shit out of  
>him, if Nick didn't suffocate him first.<br>Neither option sounded all that appealing.  
>"It would suck," he said grudgingly.<br>"So your families hate each other. Are you guys the Montagues  
>or the Capulets?"<br>Nick snorted. "Romeo and Juliet? I don't think so."  
>But his brain flashed on that day when he was twelve, when<br>Tyler's sister had died. When Michael had come home soaking  
>wet and terrified. When their parents had told them all to lock<br>themselves in the master bedroom and not come out for anything.  
>It was the first time he could remember seeing his mother<br>frightened.  
>It wasn't the last.<br>Adam's hands brought him back to the present. "Do you ever  
>think that maybe this Tyler guy thinks you are bad for Quinn?<br>That maybe his intentions aren't evil at all?"  
>The thought brought Nick up short.<br>"I remember reading something once," Adam continued,  
>"about divorce. It said that just because someone is a bad husband<br>doesn't mean they're a bad father. I think about that a lot,  
>how people have different capacities for failure. And even if you<br>fail in one area doesn't mean you fail in all of them."  
>Nick ran that through his head a few times. What had Quinn<br>said?  
>He still thinks your brother killed his sister. He seemed kinda<br>upset about it.  
>Tyler had talked about his dead sister with Quinn? That didn't<br>seem like something he'd do to get under Nick's skin.  
>Adam's hands moved lower, along his shoulder blades, his<br>thumbs pressing into the area alongside Nick's spine.  
>"You have great hands," Nick said without thinking, then<br>blushed.  
>Especially when Adam leaned in and breathed along his neck.<br>"You have no idea."  
>Nick shivered.<br>120 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Adam brushed a kiss against his neck. His hands eased lower,<br>finding Nick's rib cage. "Still obsessing about Quinn?"  
>Obsessing. Was that what Adam was hearing? Nick had to<br>clear his throat. "Quinn who?"  
>"That's better." Another slow breath against his skin. "What<br>else has you so uptight?"  
>Your hands. My imagination.<br>"School," he murmured. "I'm fourth in my class, and my  
>physics teacher wants to nominate me for some program that<br>will let me take college classes next semester."  
>"You don't sound happy about it."<br>"I help my older brother run the landscaping business.  
>Gabriel is taking a special course to be a firefighter in the spring,<br>so if I stop helping, too . . ." He let that thought trail off.  
>"You told me you were applying to some schools anyway,<br>right? Have you heard back from any?"  
>Nick hesitated.<br>Adam's hands went still. "What?"  
>"I've heard back from all of them."<br>"And?"  
>Nick wished they could get back to the sexy talk. That was<br>loaded with pressure, too, but he didn't want to think about college.  
>"And . . . I haven't opened any of the envelopes. Or the e-mails."<br>Adam smacked him on the side of the head.  
>"Ow." Nick sat up straight and looked over his shoulder.<br>"What was that for?"  
>"That was for you being an idiot." Adam grabbed Nick's<br>shoulders and pulled him straighter. "And for your posture,  
>while I'm at it. I've been wanting to do that for three days."<br>"What's wrong with my posture?"  
>"What's wrong with your head is a better question. You<br>probably have acceptance letters in there. Maybe even scholarship  
>offers, if you're fourth in your class."<br>"I don't want to talk about school." His shoulders had tightened  
>back up, and all of a sudden, he didn't want to be a part of<br>this conversation.  
>Adam pulled him back in the chair, using a little more force<br>SECRET 121  
>than was absolutely necessary. "Do your brothers have any idea<br>that you're sitting on a stack of unopened mail?"  
>"No."<br>Adam didn't say anything, but his hands were slower now,  
>less suggestive.<br>"I can feel you judging me," Nick said.  
>"Not judging." He paused, thoughtful. "Did you work<br>tonight?"  
>"Yeah. Nothing big—a little yard maintenance." He'd ridden<br>the mower while Chris and Michael did the detail work. He'd  
>been glad to have an excuse not to talk. Chris watched him the<br>whole time, but never said a word about the cafeteria outburst.  
>Nick should have kept his stupid mouth shut.<br>Damn Gabriel.  
>"Do you work every night?"<br>"No—not really. Sometimes. But Mike's been busy this week,  
>so he asked me to pick up a few extra nights."<br>"You still have homework to do?"  
>"Not a lot." A lie. But he could probably finish when he got<br>home, if he didn't fall over from exhaustion. If he was desperate,  
>he could get up early and finish. And he had yet to crack the<br>book on the physics test he'd missed. He still had Thursday  
>night for that.<br>"You still worried about Quinn?"  
>WTF. Nick shoved Adam's hands away and started to get up.<br>"I thought the whole point was to be relaxing."  
>Adam grabbed him and jerked him back into the chair again.<br>He held him there and put his lips against Nick's ear. "It is. But  
>you're all jacked up worrying about everyone else. I'm starting<br>to wonder who worries about Nicholas."  
>Nick flushed and relaxed back into his hands. "I like that,"<br>he murmured.  
>"That no one worries about you?"<br>His cheeks warmed further. Someday he'd be able to reconnect  
>his mouth to his brain. "No. The way you said my name."<br>"So I have a thought," Adam said, leaning closer to run his  
>122 Brigid Kemmerer<br>hands down the front of Nick's chest. He did it slowly, letting  
>each part of his hand stroke its way down. Fingertips, then<br>palm. Shoulders, then muscle, then nipples.  
>Nick hissed in a breath. He wanted him to stop. He wanted<br>him to keep going.  
>"What's your thought?" he said quickly.<br>"Why don't you let me worry for an hour." Adam's hands  
>moved lower, finding the hem of Nick's shirt and skirting below<br>it. Warm fingers brushed bare stomach. Nick jumped and  
>fought for breath.<br>Then those fingers slid inside the waistband of his jeans.  
>Nick froze and captured his hands. Then he couldn't move.<br>He couldn't breathe.  
>Adam's voice was low and soft, his face against Nick's neck.<br>"Talk to me."  
>Nick clenched his eyes closed. His thoughts were spinning<br>like a tornado, completely out of control. "I don't know what  
>you want."<br>Low laughter against his neck. "I don't think that's true."  
>Nick thought his cheeks would never cool. That emotional<br>tornado left him scattered and scrambling to pick up the pieces.  
>He couldn't decide if he was angry or turned on or both. "Don't<br>tease me."  
>The amusement left Adam's voice. "No teasing. No judgment.<br>You're safe here, remember?"  
>"I remember." Nick warred with his thoughts.<br>"Talk to me," Adam whispered.  
>"I don't want to do the wrong thing. I don't want you to—"<br>Adam pulled a hand free and put it over Nick's mouth. His  
>other arm went across Nick's chest, making it more of an embrace.<br>"No more worrying. What do you want? Does anyone  
>ever ask you that? What do you want, Nick?"<br>No. No one ever asked him that. Nick put a hand over  
>Adam's, where it rested on his chest. He drew a shuddering<br>breath and shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I  
>want."<br>SECRET 123  
>Adam put a hand against his cheek and turned him, kissing<br>him lightly, sweetly. No pressure, just a brush of lips before  
>drawing back.<br>"Well," said Adam, and Nick could hear the smile in his  
>voice. "Maybe I could give you a few ideas."<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Quinn giggled and looked up at the starry night sky, accented  
>by bits of flying ash from the fire. "I didn't realize<br>you'd make a whole bonfire."  
>Tyler lay next to her on a fleece beach blanket he'd fetched<br>from the truck. "Well, you said you were cold."  
>The fire stretched over six feet high, whipping in the breeze.<br>Tiny gas lamps glowed across the bay; this probably looked like  
>a distress beacon. "Won't someone see it?"<br>Tyler snorted. "You say that like I'd care." He held out a  
>paper bag. "You want the other pretzel?"<br>Quinn hugged her hands to her stomach. She was still hungry,  
>but she should probably be chewing on a lettuce leaf. "Nah."<br>"Come on. Don't make me throw it out for the gulls."  
>"If you insist." She took the bag and tore off a stretch of pretzel.<br>Butter and salt and heaven.  
>They'd been out here on this deserted stretch of beach for fifteen<br>minutes, and she'd been sure the beach-fire-blanket combo  
>was nothing more than a play to get into her pants. Nick's<br>words about Tyler using her to get at him kept bouncing around  
>in her head.<br>But Tyler hadn't made a move toward her. Even now, he left a  
>clear five feet of space between them, just like last night on the<br>roof of his shopping center.  
>Take that, Nick.<br>He'd bought her pretzels as promised, then walked a few laps  
>of the mall at her side, only asking if she wanted to go for a<br>drive when stores began unrolling their security gates. His anger  
>from yesterday seemed to have faded, his violence from the first<br>night completely gone.  
>But fury and aggression hid there, just below the surface.<br>He is not nice, Quinn.  
>She knew that. Tyler was like an attack dog who'd failed out<br>of doggie school. He might eat treats out of your hand and wag  
>his tail, but if you made the wrong move, he'd bite your hand<br>off and come back for the other one.  
>It was kinda terrifying.<br>And kinda sexy.  
>"What?" he said.<br>Quinn didn't look away. Why bother? He'd already caught  
>her staring. "I was thinking you're kind of hot when you're not<br>being a total dickhead."  
>He let out a low whistle and looked back at the sky. "Turn a<br>guy's head with talk like that."  
>She expected him to see that as some kind of invitation, but<br>he didn't move.  
>After a moment, his voice dropped and he said, "Thanks."<br>He paused. "You're not breaking any mirrors yourself."  
>But he still didn't move.<br>It thrilled her and exasperated her at the same time. Like last  
>night, when he'd dropped that line about Nick being one lucky<br>bastard.  
>Either he's not using me or he's not interested.<br>It made her want to provoke him. "I thought I was enough to  
>turn you off from sex forever."<br>Now he turned his head and looked over. The fire turned his  
>blond hair gold and bounced off his eyes. "That had more to do<br>with Merrick than with you."  
>"I don't know what that means."<br>126 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"It means I said that to get under his skin. You could look<br>like a supermodel and I would have said you were a total  
>turnoff."<br>"Hmph. Nick would say any girl was a turnoff."  
>As soon as the words were out, she wished she could suck<br>them back into her mouth.  
>Tyler went still.<br>Oh, crap.  
>Oh, crap.<br>Take it back take it back take it back.  
>But she didn't know what to say. She needed to undo this. She<br>needed to undo this right now. She'd kept this secret from everyone  
>who was important to Nick, and now she'd practically told<br>his mortal enemy.  
>She had no idea what to say to change the course of this conversation.<br>Haha, just a joke. Look! A bird!  
>Sure.<br>"That's interesting," Tyler finally said. He sat up and pulled a  
>cigarette from the pack in his back pocket. "Very interesting."<br>She needed a rewind button. A time machine. Something.  
>She'd give anything to be back at the dance studio, falling on<br>her face in front of Adam's perfection. Anything.  
>She sat up on her heels. Could she beg him to keep it a secret?<br>Would that be better or worse than pretending it wasn't a secret  
>at all?<br>"So you're not really his girlfriend," said Tyler.  
>And what was she supposed to say to that? Here she was sitting<br>with a guy she was attracted to, and she was going to have  
>to pretend to be madly in love with Nick, just to keep a stupid<br>secret.  
>But Tyler looked over, and she could read it on his face. He<br>knew.  
>Her voice was soft, almost lost in the sound of the surf. "No.<br>Not really."  
>He started to move the cigarette to his lips, but then he flung<br>SECRET 127  
>it into the fire, unlit. His expression was fierce, all angles lit by<br>the flames. He shifted on the blanket like he was going to leave.  
>Was he going after Nick? Was he going to take this information<br>and pick a fight, or use it against his brothers somehow? Or  
>was he—<br>Tyler took her face in his hands and pressed his lips against  
>hers.<br>Quinn stiffened in surprise—then yielded. He was rough and  
>forceful, but in all the right ways. She'd kissed a lot of boys, but<br>Tyler kissed like a man. No hesitation, no fumbling. First, his  
>mouth, hot and searing and making her feel things low in her<br>belly. Then his hands, finding her waist, pushing her down on  
>the blanket. Then his tongue, pulling at hers.<br>His body felt secure against her, and his arms caged her there  
>on the blanket. When he drew back to look at her, she wanted<br>to grab his shirt and drag him back down.  
>But then she remembered what she'd just said.<br>"Please don't tell anyone," she whispered.  
>"Tell anyone what?"<br>"About Nick."  
>He straightened his arms, pushing himself up until she missed<br>his weight. "Nice," he said with clear derision. The fire whipped  
>higher behind him. "I kiss you, and you're still thinking about<br>that stupid f—"  
>Quinn slapped him. Hard, with all the passion of their kiss<br>and her panic behind it. "Don't you dare call him that."  
>Tyler caught her arm and pinned it to the blanket. He got in<br>her face. "Don't you dare hit me. I was going to call him a stupid  
>fuck."<br>Oh. It wasn't better, but somehow, it was.  
>She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."<br>"For what." He said it flatly, not even a question. He didn't  
>even wait for an answer, just moved off her to sit back on the<br>blanket and stare at the fire.  
>She sat up next to him.<br>Talking about Nick seemed like a minefield, but all she could  
>128 Brigid Kemmerer<br>think about was how badly she'd derailed this entire evening.  
>For everyone.<br>She wanted to touch Tyler—but she didn't.  
>"Why did you kiss me?" she whispered.<br>He had another cigarette between his fingers, twirling it  
>across his knuckles like a miniature baton. He mused for so<br>long that she wanted to throw it into the fire after the first one.  
>Then he said, "Because I wanted to."<br>"No," she said. "Why did you kiss me now? After you knew  
>about Nick?"<br>He looked at her. "Because I could."  
>She licked her lips, tasting smoke from the fire. "I don't understand."<br>He looked back at the flames. "I could have screwed with  
>you to mess with him. I thought about it. Last night." He<br>shrugged it off and looked at her. "I didn't want to do that."  
>Quinn couldn't decide if she'd destroyed everything, or if<br>she'd cleared a path for something to grow.  
>Tyler looked at her. "Why were you sitting behind the 7-<br>Eleven Monday night?" She opened her mouth, and he gave her  
>a hard look. "The truth."<br>She hadn't even told Nick the truth.  
>When it got right down to it, she didn't even want to admit it<br>to herself.  
>Quinn stared right back into his eyes and made her voice as<br>challenging as his was. "Because my mom drinks like a fish and  
>it turns her into a crazy bitch."<br>He studied her for a long second. "Is that all?"  
>He didn't say it like it wasn't enough of a reason to be upset.<br>He said it like he knew that it wasn't a complete answer, like he  
>knew there was more behind it.<br>Quinn shook her head. "I have to wait until she passes out or  
>falls asleep if I want to go home. Otherwise she'll start screaming<br>at me."  
>"She hit you, too?"<br>Quinn shook her head.  
>SECRET 129<br>Tyler didn't believe her. "So she wasn't the one to knock you  
>around the other night?"<br>Quinn looked at the sand. "She's slapped me before, but she's  
>never left a mark."<br>"I know you said Nick didn't hit you. Who did?"  
>"Would you just smoke another cigarette or something—"<br>"Jesus, you're hardheaded. Answer the question."  
>"My brother."<br>She felt Tyler draw himself up, and she peeked over at him.  
>The look of fury on his face was almost terrifying, and she was<br>glad she wasn't the target.  
>"What happened?" he said.<br>"It's nothing—"  
>"Shut the fuck up about it's nothing. What happened?"<br>Her mother had defended Jake for so long that Quinn was  
>shocked to hear someone act like her brother's actions were not<br>okay. "He's home from college. He keeps smoking pot in my  
>room. He has his friends there all the time. The other night, he<br>slammed my face into the wall because he thought I stole his  
>money or his stash." Her voice started to break, and she kept<br>talking fast, as if fractured words would hold off tears. "I can't  
>even get my clothes out of there to crash somewhere else, because<br>his friends think I'm fresh meat. They keep touching me,  
>and I can't—I can't even—"<br>She stopped short. Tyler was standing, pulling her to her feet,  
>picking up the blanket to shake it free of sand.<br>"What are you doing?" she asked.  
>"I'm driving you home to get your stuff."<br>"You're—what? Why?"  
>"Because I can. Because I have an apartment, and you look<br>like you could do with eight hours of sleep. Because—"  
>"You expect me to stay with you? But—"<br>"But what? You have a dozen better offers? Get in the  
>truck."<br>She got in the truck. They were a mile down the road and he  
>hadn't said anything else when she finally turned to him. "Because<br>what else?"  
>130 Brigid Kemmerer<br>He looked at her like she was nuts. "What?"  
>"You said because, and I cut you off. Why are you doing<br>this?"  
>His voice dropped. "You don't have to stay with me. I didn't<br>mean to make it sound like I was kidnapping you."  
>"Shut up. You're not making me do anything."<br>He snorted and rubbed his cheek. "No kidding."  
>"Shut up! Because what else?"<br>He looked away from the road long enough to meet her eyes.  
>"Because I like you."<br>"No one has ever done anything like that for me," she said.  
>Not Becca. Not Nick.<br>You didn't tell them, her brain whispered.  
>But they'd never pushed as hard as Tyler.<br>"Well," said Tyler, "maybe it's time someone should."


	14. Chapter 14

Quinn stopped Tyler in front of her apartment door. Her  
>older brother's car was in the parking lot—of course—so<br>she slid her key into the deadbolt carefully.  
>"Worried you're going to wake someone up?" said Tyler.<br>"No," she said, too forcefully. She was worried someone  
>would hear her and make this worse than it needed to be.<br>She'd never brought anyone home to this apartment. She and  
>Becca had hardly seen each other since the fire, and when they<br>did, it was always at Becca's place or the Merrick house. When  
>Nick drove her home, she never let him get farther than the<br>apartment landing. She didn't want anyone to smell the pot or  
>the alcohol. Even now, outside the door, embarrassment sent<br>heat coursing up her neck. What if Tyler saw her mother stumbling  
>around in a nightgown? What if the shrieking started and<br>Quinn couldn't get her to shut up?  
>She looked at Tyler and put a hand up. "Just wait here."<br>For an instant, she was ready for Tyler to refuse.  
>But then he shrugged and said, "Okay," and she realized<br>she'd been hoping he would refuse.  
>The lock gave and she was through the door. She closed it<br>gently, quietly, leaving it unlocked to spare her one extra second  
>if she needed to get out fast.<br>This was ridiculous, creeping into her own house. Back before  
>the fire, when she'd lived around the corner from Becca,<br>everything had been on the ground level, and she hadn't needed  
>to pass anyone to get in and out of her room. The window had<br>worked fine for that. And while their house had never been  
>large, everyone had their own room.<br>This bullshit with Jake was infuriating.  
>Even now, the living room was empty and dim. Her mother<br>must have been in the bedroom, or hell, maybe she'd gone out,  
>too. But Quinn could see light beneath her own bedroom door.<br>She could hear them in there—but barely, with the racket her  
>heart was kicking up.<br>She wanted to turn and run through the door and tell Tyler  
>all her clothes had been stolen.<br>And then what would she do? Go back to his place with her  
>dance shorts and her worn fleece pullover? Wear that to school?<br>She hated that her life had devolved to the point where she  
>had to choose the lesser of two evils.<br>But . . . maybe Tyler wasn't evil at all. She still couldn't tell.  
>The kiss, the admission that he'd wanted to ensure she was free<br>before making a move . . . she couldn't wrap her head around it.  
>God, she was stalling. Ridiculous. She needed her stuff and<br>she was going to walk in there and get it. She straightened her  
>spine, stalked over to her bedroom door, and threw it open.<br>The room smelled acrid and foul. She stumbled back. Jake sat  
>on the floor with three of his friends. They all looked up when<br>she entered.  
>Two guys looked dazed and confused. She'd never seen them<br>before. Heavy-lidded and slack-jawed, they were leaning up  
>against her bed like they had no intention of moving. Ever.<br>The other guy, sitting next to Jake, looked interested, and not  
>in a good way. In a don't-touch-me-you-creep way. He also<br>looked filthy, like he hadn't showered in three days. Lank dark  
>hair clung to his forehead, and he wore a tank top and shorts<br>despite the fact that it was getting below freezing at night. A  
>glass pipe sat in his hands.<br>Nice.  
>Jake got to his feet, a little unsteadily. He was tall and lanky<br>SECRET 133  
>and muscled, befitting a star basketball player. But whereas he'd<br>once been quite a looker with blue eyes and that shock of blond  
>hair, now he looked drawn and washed out. His eyes were<br>bloodshot. And paranoid. "Get the fuck out of here, Quinn."  
>"I just want my stuff," she said.<br>Greasy tank top snorted. "She's cute, J, where've you been  
>hiding her?"<br>She expected his voice to be lazy and drawling, to match the  
>boys who could barely hold themselves upright, but it wasn't.<br>His tone was too interested. Too alert. It made her skin crawl.  
>Quinn wanted to step past them, to grab clothes from her<br>dresser, but she remembered the last time she'd run into one of  
>Jake's friends, and she kept her distance.<br>"Get out of here," said Jake. He took a step toward her and  
>grabbed her arm. "You hear me? Quit messing with me."<br>She jerked free. "I'm not messing with you!" she snapped. "I  
>haven't even been here!"<br>He came after her. "Look, you—"  
>She ducked under his arm and slid through the doorway into<br>her room. Jake grunted, and she half expected him to grab her,  
>but judging by the racket he made, he must have stumbled into<br>the doorjamb. She made it past his friends and flung open a  
>dresser drawer. "Just let me get my stuff. Then you can keep<br>smoking pot until your lungs burn out."  
>"That's not pot."<br>Tyler's voice. Quinn spun.  
>He'd caught Jake's arm and twisted it behind him, and just<br>now had him pinned up against the wall.  
>Her brother was struggling, but though he was tall, Tyler had<br>the advantage in mass.  
>Tyler gave her a look. "Hurry up, huh?"<br>Quinn hustled.  
>Greasy boy took all this in stride, his sharp eyes watching<br>everything. "Is that Tyler Morgan?" he said. "Dude, I didn't  
>know this was your scene."<br>"It's not," said Tyler. His voice was even, as if Jake wasn't  
>trying to buck his hold.<br>134 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Quinn flung clothes into her backpack without looking. Her<br>heart was in her throat. Jake was cursing at Tyler now. Talldark-  
>and-sinister was flicking a lighter, but he couldn't seem to<br>get it to spark.  
>She had no idea whether this was going better or worse than<br>if Tyler hadn't intervened.  
>The bag wouldn't hold any more, and she jerked at the zipper.<br>"Get the keys out of my pocket," said Tyler. "Go down and  
>start the truck."<br>The dark-haired boy flicked the lighter again. Still no flame.  
>"Sure you don't want to stay, sweet thing?"<br>"I'm worried I might puke on you," said Quinn. It took  
>everything she had not to kick him in the face.<br>Especially since he grabbed her ass when she skittered by him.  
>She whirled, her hand balled into a fist.<br>"Go," said Tyler. "Ignore him."  
>"I'm going to fuck you up," Jake wheezed. "You think<br>you're so—"  
>"Yeah, yeah," said Tyler. "Quinn. The keys."<br>His body was tighter than a bow string, taut and rigid as he  
>held her brother against the wall. Quinn had to get close to fish<br>the keys from his pocket. This felt too intimate, sliding her hand  
>along the front of his hip, searching for a metal ring.<br>Then the keys were in her fingers.  
>"Go," said Tyler. "I'll be down in a second."<br>"The hell you will," Jake snapped.  
>Quinn hesitated. That lighter kept flicking, never finding a<br>flame.  
>Tyler glanced over his shoulder. "Go on," he said, and for the<br>first time, she heard a breath of strain in his voice. She saw the  
>warning in his eyes. This could unravel in a real hurry. "Don't<br>stop. Start the truck."  
>She ran. Halfway down the stairs, she heard them start to<br>fight. Someone was yelling. Then a woman was shrieking.  
>Her mother.<br>Quinn hesitated at the turn in the steps. A gun fired. Glass  
>shattered. The shrieking stopped.<br>SECRET 135  
>Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. There was no love lost between<br>Quinn and her family, but had Tyler shot—had he—?  
>And then he was just there, grabbing her hand, yanking the<br>keys out of her fingers, physically picking her up when she  
>couldn't run with him.<br>He shoved her into the cab of his truck and she scrambled  
>across the seat to get away from him. He started the ignition<br>and rolled out of the parking place, but not with any great burst  
>of speed.<br>Quinn couldn't catch her breath, couldn't stop shaking, and  
>she wondered if she should be diving out of the vehicle right<br>now, running for her life.  
>"Are you okay?" he said. "Hey, look at me. Are you all<br>right?"  
>She realized she was making hysterical little keening noises.<br>Tyler rolled to a stop at the stop sign. A siren kicked up somewhere  
>in the distance.<br>He looked at her, and she grabbed the door handle, still contemplating  
>leaping out of the vehicle. Her breath shook with<br>panic. "Did you—did you kill them?"  
>"Are you insane? No!"<br>"But a gun—a gun—"  
>"It wasn't mine. It was Anthony Spinnetti's."<br>She must have looked blank, because he rolled his eyes. "The  
>douche bag with the crack pipe."<br>That was a crack pipe?  
>She stared at him. Her eyes felt too wide. She still couldn't get<br>a handle on her breathing. "Who got shot?"  
>"No one. Well, your door frame. I got it out of his hands and<br>threw it through your bedroom window."  
>The glass breaking.<br>But Tyler had wrestled someone with a gun?  
>He was on Ritchie Highway now, but he glanced over at her.<br>"He was about to come after you. Your brother told him you  
>stole his money. Is that true?"<br>She put her hands on her cheeks. "No."  
>136 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Maybe a little warning that you were leading me into a  
>dealer's den would have been in order."<br>"I didn't—I had no idea."  
>"Jesus Christ, girl, how long have you been living like that?"<br>"I don't—I didn't know what they were doing." She felt naïve  
>and stupid, which was ridiculous. She couldn't wrap her head<br>around this. "You really didn't shoot them?"  
>"Sweetheart, I don't walk around armed. My gun is locked<br>up. I'll prove it to you when we get to my place." He paused and  
>ran a hand back through his hair. "Unless . . . do you want to go<br>to the cops? Your neighbors are already calling them, but . . ."  
>Her life had to be pretty shitty to have two guys offering to<br>take her to the police in the span of one week.  
>And this time, at first, she did want Tyler to take her to the<br>police station. She'd tell them everything she'd seen, and she'd  
>have him there to back it up.<br>But then they'd arrest her brother. And possibly her parents.  
>Quinn was only seventeen. Where would they send her? A foster<br>home or something? Or would she be arrested, too?  
>And what would they do to Jordan? At least her little brother<br>was practically living at his friends' houses. She hadn't seen him  
>in over a week. She didn't have to worry about him coming<br>around.  
>"No," she whispered. "No cops."<br>"You all right?"  
>She shook her head. "How do you know that Anthony guy?"<br>"We went to school together. I didn't know your brother was  
>Jake Briscoe. Talk about how the mighty have fallen."<br>Quinn blinked at him. They'd come to a red light, and it reflected  
>off Tyler's fair skin and hair, making him look a little<br>softer. "What does that mean?"  
>"Didn't he win a scholarship to Duke or something?"<br>"Yeah. He's home on a break."  
>Tyler looked over. The expression on his face said, Come on,<br>don't be stupid.  
>But she must have been, because she didn't get it. "What?"<br>SECRET 137  
>"What break? It's the middle of October. I'm not on break.<br>Why would he be?"  
>"You think—you think he left school?"<br>Tyler snorted. "He's smoking crack with a high school dropout.  
>I'd bet my truck your brother got kicked out of school."<br>Kicked out of school. The golden boy.  
>Quinn wondered if this added a new intensity to her parents'<br>problems.  
>And it wasn't like things were great before.<br>"Was my mother okay?" she whispered.  
>"She was lit," said Tyler. "Where's your dad?"<br>Quinn shook her head. "I never know anymore. Sometimes  
>he works nights, but sometimes . . . I try to stay out of there as<br>much as I can."  
>And now she'd burned her bridges with Becca and Nick.<br>She had nowhere to go.  
>Tyler was silent for a long while, and she watched the lights<br>zip by outside his truck.  
>"You want me to take you somewhere else?" he finally said.<br>"You have a friend you want to stay with or something?"  
>Quinn shook her head. "You can just—" She had to clear her<br>throat. "I'm all right. You can let me out at the next street corner.  
>I'll call someone."<br>"You think I'm buying that?"  
>She had no idea what to say. She had no idea what Tyler expected.<br>Just like before, she felt trapped by circumstance. She  
>could get out of this truck and . . . and, what? Sleep on the<br>street? But if she went home with Tyler, would he be looking to  
>hook up?<br>She kept thinking of the way Anthony had grabbed her ass.  
>He certainly wasn't the first of her brother's friends to lay a<br>hand on her. She swallowed.  
>At least Tyler's apartment would mean a place to sleep. At<br>least he wasn't a total stranger.  
>"Your place is fine," she said. "If the offer is still open."<br>"It is," he said. He shut up and drove.  
>138 Brigid Kemmerer<p>

Tyler's apartment was a lot nicer than she was expecting. Hell, it  
>was nicer than her family's apartment.<br>Lush wine-colored carpeting stretched everywhere. Two bedrooms  
>were at the back, each massive. One had a king-size bed, the<br>other had two queens. A huge kitchen sported granite countertops.  
>Plush furniture sat everywhere and a huge flat-screen television<br>hung on the wall. It wasn't immaculately clean or anything—  
>enough comfortable clutter was scattered around that it looked<br>lived in—but Tyler wasn't a slob.  
>"Wait," she said, taking a second look around. "Is this your<br>parents' place?"  
>"Yes," he said. "Sort of. My grandmother used to live here,<br>and they inherited it when she died. They were going to fix it up  
>to sell it, but then they told me I could live here if I did the<br>work."  
>She looked around again. "You did all this yourself?"<br>"Mostly. I had a few friends help me. Mom had the counters  
>installed, but I tore down the old wallpaper and did all the<br>painting. Hung the new cabinets, too." He shrugged. "It beats a  
>dorm."<br>No kidding. Then she had another thought.  
>"Do you live alone?"<br>"Yeah." He hesitated. "My friend Seth was going to move in  
>after he graduated, but . . ." His voice trailed off.<br>Seth. Seth Ramsey. Quinn knew all about him. "But your  
>friend tried to rape my friend and now he's in a ton of trouble,"<br>she finished.  
>Tyler frowned. "He's not really my friend anymore."<br>"Don't like rapists?" she quipped.  
>"You going to hold me accountable for something Seth did?"<br>It was almost the same thing she'd said to Nick. She didn't  
>know why she was even picking at this. Maybe because she<br>needed to pick at something before her brain exploded.  
>A crack pipe. In her bedroom. God.<br>She dropped her backpack on the floor and swung into one  
>SECRET 139<br>of his dining room chairs. "So why isn't Seth your friend anymore?"  
>Tyler leaned on the back of a chair and looked at her. "You<br>know I don't like the Merricks, yeah?"  
>"It's come up once or twice."<br>"Fucking with them is one thing. They aren't supposed to  
>exist. They aren't supposed to be here. But that's not—it's different.<br>What Seth did . . . I could never do . . . that."  
>"So it would have been okay if he'd shot her, but raping her<br>is wrong."  
>Tyler just stared back at her.<br>"What?" she said. "I'm trying to figure out your bizarre  
>morality. You're the one who lit my arm on fire. Didn't you<br>rough Becca up yourself?"  
>He didn't even look ashamed, reminding her that Tyler was<br>no white knight, either. "It's not my morality," he said. "I'm not  
>a Guide. Full Elementals are identified and put to death. Period.<br>Who cares if they get a little roughed up on the way?"  
>"You're an Elemental," she said. "Why are you allowed to<br>live?"  
>His eyes hardened, and she realized she'd struck a nerve. "Because<br>I can't accidentally destroy an entire town if I have a temper  
>tantrum. You've seen the damage they can do. I know you<br>have."  
>"You aren't the only person who lost someone," she said quietly.<br>"Their parents died in a fire, didn't they?"  
>"Yeah, so did Seth's."<br>She hadn't heard that. Quinn thought about the carnival fire  
>that had killed seven other students. Or the earthquake that had<br>destroyed the bridge near school—and almost killed Becca. Or  
>the arson attacks that had destroyed half a dozen homes—including<br>hers—and killed people in the community. Whole families  
>devastated because of a temper tantrum, as he called it.<br>She didn't want Tyler to be right. But a tiny part of her agreed  
>with him. Maybe Gabriel had been saving people, but she knew<br>enough about Nick's twin brother to know he had a cruel streak  
>every inch as wide as Tyler's.<br>140 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Nick is my friend," she said quietly. "I don't care what he is."<br>"You should."  
>"I don't. He's never hurt anyone."<br>"How do you know? Have you asked him?"  
>That question drew her up short. She thought of Nick in the<br>woods behind his house, showing her what he could do. Relax.  
>It's only wind.<br>But then he'd told her about the accidental tornado on the  
>soccer field. The storm that had shattered his leg. His abilities<br>had let him heal in record time. What if a normal kid had been  
>caught up in that storm?<br>What else could Nick do by accident?  
>"I trust him." She hesitated. "He warned me to stay away<br>from you."  
>Tyler snorted. "Wait, let me put on my surprised face. You<br>want to stay away from me? There's the door."  
>Quinn didn't move.<br>Tyler's eyes didn't leave hers. "Where was friendly ol' Nick  
>Merrick when your brother was smacking you around? I don't<br>see him putting those powers to good use to protect you."  
>"He didn't know," she whispered.<br>"Why not? Too busy with another guy?"  
>She flinched. It was just a little too close to the truth. "Just<br>because Nick didn't know about my brother doesn't mean he  
>should be killed."<br>"If a lion escapes from the zoo, do you think they should let  
>it run loose, or do you think they should shoot it before it hurts<br>someone?"  
>"They can shoot a lion with a tranquilizer dart."<br>Tyler circled the table, leaning down over her. His voice was  
>intense, but his words were soft. "Or that could piss it off so it<br>causes more damage."  
>Her eyes flicked to his lips. She had no idea why he was sexier<br>while he was arguing, but there it was.  
>"In fact," he said, "I have a theory."<br>"What's that?" she said.  
>"If a Guide comes to town to kill them, he's going to have to<br>SECRET 141  
>be good. Really good. He's going to have to figure out a way to<br>take them all out at once."  
>Quinn swallowed. She didn't like that he sounded happy<br>about that. He was so hard to classify in her brain: protecting  
>her, kissing her, defending her.<br>All while wanting her friends dead.  
>"Why?" she whispered.<br>Tyler smiled. "Otherwise, he'll learn what I learned. You just  
>have to mess with one to piss the rest off."<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Nick didn't make it home until one a.m. He expected to find  
>the house dark and quiet, but Michael was half asleep on<br>the couch, some late-night news program throwing light against  
>the back wall.<br>He'd hoped to sneak up to his bedroom unnoticed, but  
>Michael sat up and rubbed his eyes when Nick slid the deadbolt<br>on the front door.  
>"It's late," he said quietly.<br>"Sorry," Nick said, wondering if he was going to catch any  
>crap about coming home after midnight every night this week.<br>"How's Quinn?" Michael said.  
>Nick shrugged, feeling like the question was a trap. "She's all<br>right."  
>"You okay? You look a little scattered."<br>"Just tired. You know."  
>"Anything going on?"<br>Nick's heart kicked into triple time from all the questions.  
>Michael wasn't one for small talk. "No. Why?"<br>Michael picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "What  
>did you do tonight?"<br>This was starting to look like a round of Let's Talk, and Nick  
>really didn't want to play.<br>He shrugged again. "Nothing really."  
>I pissed off Quinn, and probably chased her into the arms of<br>a psychopath.  
>Yeah, Tyler. Remember him? He used to make our lives hell.<br>Oh, and I made out with another guy. It's a miracle our  
>clothes stayed on.<br>He suspected the latter half was Adam trying not to push him  
>further than he was ready to go. Amazing and excruciating, all<br>slow hands and fierce kissing, broken only when Nick would  
>hesitate. Adam never pushed.<br>Nick wondered if some of that was for Adam's own benefit, too.  
>Knowing what he knew, Nick never pushed, either. It left<br>them tangled in a careful dance of caresses and stronger  
>touches.<br>He hadn't wanted to leave.  
>Michael was studying him. "Gabriel said you and Quinn<br>seem to be getting pretty close."  
>Great. Nick dropped into the armchair and wondered how<br>much he could say without incriminating himself. What else had  
>Gabriel said? Did Michael already suspect something?<br>"She's going through a lot," he offered, keeping his eyes on  
>the end table. "At home. You know."<br>"You want to talk about it?"  
>Yes. He did. Emotions wrapped around his neck and jerked<br>tight, and he wanted to tell Michael everything. About Quinn.  
>About Tyler.<br>But if he talked about them, he'd have to talk about Adam.  
>For an instant, he hated Quinn for putting him in this position.<br>Then he hated himself for putting her in this position.  
>This sucked.<br>He met his older brother's eyes. "Not really." He rubbed at  
>the back of his neck. "She'll be all right."<br>Like Michael would leave it at that.  
>His brother inhaled—a loaded breath. Nick braced himself<br>for an interrogation.  
>Why'd you get all jumpy when Gabriel said gay guys are<br>creepy? Are you gay, Nick? Of course it's creepy. God, and  
>144 Brigid Kemmerer<br>we've been living under the same roof. Jesus, what would Mom  
>and Dad say? Maybe you should sleep in the basement.<br>But Michael didn't say any of that. "I need to ask you a  
>favor."<br>Nick coughed. He needed to turn his brain off. "What?"  
>"I feel bad asking, because I know you worked two extra<br>nights this week—"  
>"It's fine. What is it?"<br>His tone was rougher than usual, and Michael looked a bit  
>unsettled. "Tomorrow is Hannah's birthday. Her parents are<br>taking her out to dinner, and they asked if I'd like to join them."  
>Nick went still. So this had nothing to do with him at all.<br>"What's the favor?"  
>At this point, he'd do pretty much anything if it took the<br>focus off of him. Paint a replica of Van Gogh's Starry Night on  
>the ceiling? Sure, Mike. Let me get my brush.<br>"You can say no if you want," said Michael.  
>Now all the uncomfortable small talk made sense. Nick's<br>subconscious let out a sigh. "Why don't you get around to what  
>it is before I start saying no?"<br>"Would you babysit?"  
>"You mean for James?"<br>"No, Hannah's other five-year-old. Yeah, I mean James."  
>"Do I have to go there?"<br>"No, she can bring him over here."  
>Nick smiled. "Okay."<br>Michael's eyebrows went up. "Really? I was worried you'd  
>have plans. Everyone else does."<br>It would probably be good to let Quinn have a night off from  
>his presence. At least she wouldn't have a reason to bail on<br>Adam again. "Nah. I have a big physics exam on Friday. I can  
>study after he goes to bed." His insides relaxed. "What's everyone<br>else doing?"  
>"Gabriel and Layne are watching Simon's basketball game,<br>then going to a movie; Chris said he and Becca are doing something,  
>which sounds suspiciously like taking advantage of the<br>SECRET 145  
>fact that her mom won't be home; and Hunter said he and his<br>mom were going to catch a late dinner to talk things out."  
>"No landscaping jobs?" said Nick.<br>"No jobs. I was actually planning to watch James so she  
>could go out with her folks. We could take him with us, but I<br>thought maybe I could get one of you to watch him . . ."  
>The air was practically trembling with anxiety. "You're nervous,"<br>said Nick.  
>"I've met her dad, but it wasn't on the best terms."<br>Meaning, the night Gabriel had been arrested for arson. Hannah's  
>father was the county fire marshal.<br>"They asked you, right? I think that's a good sign."  
>"Maybe."<br>"You don't sound happy."  
>"I've never done the parent thing."<br>"Pretend they're new clients."  
>Michael looked at him. "Yeah, okay."<br>"No. Seriously. That's what I do." Nick never had any idea  
>how to treat his girlfriends' parents. He always worried they'd see<br>right through him, and it wasn't like he wanted to pretend to stare  
>at his date's boobs right in front of Mom and Dad, just to prove a<br>point. He knew how to deal with teachers, and how to deal with  
>landscaping customers. He treated parents the same way. They always<br>liked him. Then again, maybe they could sense he wasn't a  
>threat to anyone's virginity.<br>Whatever. He shrugged. "It's worked so far."  
>Michael smiled and hit him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Nick."<br>He headed for the stairs. Nick watched him go, bemused. And  
>relieved.<br>And a little disappointed.  
>"Hey," Nick called after him.<br>"What?"  
>"I'd lose the long hair."<br>Michael made a face. "If I cut my hair, that means I have to  
>keep cutting it."<br>Typical Michael. Not making a statement with his looks. Just  
>146 Brigid Kemmerer<br>not taking five minutes to care what he looked like. "You're the  
>one who wants to make a good impression. Just saying."<br>Michael gestured. "I can't do what you guys do."  
>"So cut it short."<br>"It won't look stupid?"  
>"Right now you look like you're trying to bring back the<br>grunge era, so you tell me."  
>Michael rolled his eyes and started up the stairs. "All right,<br>all right."  
>Nick watched him go. The camaraderie felt good. He'd<br>missed this. So much that he wanted to call Michael back down,  
>to take him up on that option to talk.<br>Then again, his older brother hadn't really meant it. That had  
>been BS conversation until he could get around to asking a<br>favor.  
>And really, if he'd said a word about Adam, that camaraderie<br>probably would have vanished into thin air.  
>Quinn woke to the sounds of a guitar strumming.<br>She lay in bed and listened, trying to orient herself. Darkness  
>cloaked the room, barely letting any light through the blinds. A<br>light was on somewhere down the hallway.  
>Right, Tyler's apartment.<br>The guitar was muffled, probably a neighbor or something.  
>She was alone in bed, which wasn't a surprise. She was in the<br>room with the double beds, curled up under the quilt.  
>The whole night had been bizarre, from her fight with Nick,<br>to the kiss from Tyler, to the drug addicts in her bedroom.  
>It hadn't gotten any better.<br>Tyler had asked if she wanted to take a shower to clean up a  
>bit, which she'd assumed was an implication that it was time for<br>her to earn a place to sleep for the night. Kind of like when boys  
>took you out to dinner and a movie and then expected a little<br>somethin'-somethin' in the car before they took you home, but  
>on a whole new level.<br>But no, she'd climbed in the steaming hot shower alone and  
>SECRET 147<br>stayed that way. She took her time, too, not knowing when  
>she'd get another chance to spend more than five minutes in a<br>shower before someone started screaming at her.  
>And later, when she'd emerged with pinned up damp hair and<br>yoga sweats, Tyler had been killing the lights in the apartment.  
>"Stay up and watch TV if you want," he'd said. "I'm going to<br>bed. I've got an eight a.m. class." Then he'd taken a quick look in  
>the second bedroom and said, "Do you want an extra blanket?"<br>Pretty clear where he'd expected her to sleep.  
>Thinking about it now, she wondered if she'd messed something<br>up.  
>You going to judge me for something Seth did?<br>She had no idea how to read him. He'd said terrible things to  
>her in Nick's driveway—though he'd talked his way out of<br>those. But then that night behind the 7-Eleven, when he'd  
>burned her . . . was that a cruel side of Tyler, the way boys<br>would yank the wings off flies, or was that a panicked side trying  
>to figure out what dangers were affecting the Elementals in<br>town, using the only leverage he could find?  
>And here she was, sleeping in his spare room. After he'd<br>helped her get her things and protected her from an addict and a  
>dealer. That had to count for something.<br>No, a lot. That had to count for a lot.  
>The guitar music kept up, and she listened, thinking of Nick,<br>of the night he'd told her his family secret, the way the air had  
>carried her.<br>She thought of how much he hated Tyler, and wished she  
>knew how to reconcile all these facets of the same guy.<br>The guitar music changed, becoming something more lively.  
>Still muffled, still at a distance, but enough that she could pick<br>out the rhythm and melody. Was someone outside? But they  
>were on the third floor.<br>She swung her legs onto the velvet softness of the carpeting,  
>padding into the doorway. Definitely outside.<br>She peeked through Tyler's doorway, expecting to either find  
>him asleep, or sitting up in bed, as confused about the music as<br>she was.  
>148 Brigid Kemmerer<br>His bed was empty.  
>The light over the sink was on, casting a soft glow across half<br>the apartment. Quinn approached the glass door that led to the  
>porch, seeing that someone was indeed out there, sprawled on<br>one of the porch chairs, a guitar in his lap.  
>Tyler.<br>Quinn slid the glass door open. "What happened to your  
>eight o'clock class?"<br>"Nothing. I couldn't sleep." He was good enough that he  
>didn't lose the rhythm or the melody. "Did I wake you?"<br>"You're probably waking half the building."  
>"Doubt it." She opened her mouth to fire back, but he nodded<br>at the opposite chair. "Want to join me?"  
>Like she had anything better to do. She dragged the door<br>closed behind her and eased into the vinyl chair. It was way too  
>cold for a tank top and stretch pants, but she was used to being<br>underdressed for the weather. She caught a whiff of smoke in  
>the air, then saw the lit cigarette perched on an ashtray on the<br>table beside him. A beer sat there with it.  
>Definitely way too old for her. She didn't give a crap.<br>"You're very good," she said quietly.  
>"Thanks," he said equably.<br>"Do you sing, too?"  
>She'd been kidding, but he nodded. He didn't demonstrate,<br>however.  
>"I don't get a show?" she mocked, thinking of his comments<br>when she was dancing in the woods.  
>He pressed a hand against the strings, stopping the music<br>abruptly. "Do you want one?"  
>Was his voice suggestive? She couldn't tell.<br>"Sure." A breeze slid through the railing and she shivered,  
>running her hands up and down her arms.<br>He picked up his beer. "Cold?"  
>"No, it's a tic."<br>He laughed softly, then moved the guitar off his lap. He wasn't  
>quite holding his arms open for a hug, but the invitation was<br>there. He clinched it when he said, "Want to sit with me?"  
>SECRET 149<br>Quinn studied him in the near darkness for a long moment.  
>She remembered their conversation about the lion earlier. Right<br>now she felt like she was climbing into a lion's cage. Or rather,  
>his lap.<br>Another gust of wind gave her all the urging she needed. She  
>eased into Tyler, finding him warm and solid. He smelled like<br>cigarettes and beer and something warmer, more inviting, like  
>cinnamon or vanilla or both. His arms came around her, dragging<br>the guitar into her lap. He shifted, moving her slightly. It  
>put her face almost against his neck, his breath against her hairline.<br>She suddenly wasn't cold at all.  
>"I don't think there's room in this chair for the three of us,"<br>she said softly.  
>"Please," he scoffed. "As tiny as you are? Plenty of room."<br>Tiny. Tiny! Quinn almost fell off his lap. Maybe he couldn't  
>feel her crushing his femurs.<br>But then he started to play, his fingers spilling across the  
>strings, picking out a quick-yet-slow rhythm. His arms were<br>warm and strong, caging her in his lap, and Quinn closed her  
>eyes.<br>When he began to sing, it took her by surprise. His voice was  
>low, rough and raspy, carrying a tune effortlessly. She didn't<br>know the song, but it felt vaguely country, with lyrics about  
>pretty girls and apple trees. Her cynical mind wanted to mock it,<br>to mock him, because he was being gentle and kind and it threw  
>her off balance more effectively than when he'd physically<br>dragged her out of her apartment building.  
>But damn, he had a sexy voice. Quinn felt drunk on the<br>sound, like he was playing her body instead of the strings.  
>His fingers eventually went still, and he dropped a kiss<br>against her temple.  
>She shifted in his lap, turning, rising up to kiss him.<br>For an instant, she almost panicked and drew back, thinking  
>of the night she'd spent with Nick, when she'd kissed him and<br>made an absolute fool of herself.  
>But Tyler was kissing her back, setting the guitar against the<br>150 Brigid Kemmerer  
>wall, using both hands to catch her waist and slide under the<br>tank top. She was suddenly straddling him, and even though she'd  
>gone all the way with boys before, this felt like more, like she'd<br>been playing Little League all her life, and all of a sudden she'd  
>been dropped in the middle of a Major League game. It was exhilarating<br>and terrifying at the same time.  
>He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, and Quinn<br>gave a little gasp.  
>Then his mouth was on her neck and his hand was under her<br>shirt. When his fingers discovered that she wasn't wearing a bra,  
>he made a low sound in his throat. His thumb stroked over her<br>breast again, and Quinn felt the touch all the way through her  
>body.<br>"God, you're good at this," she gasped.  
>He laughed, and she felt the sound roll through his body. His<br>hands pulled free of her shirt to stroke up the lengths of her  
>arms. "Are you still cold?"<br>She shook her head.  
>He brushed blond hair out of her eyes, tracing a finger down<br>the side of her face. It was the first time she'd ever known him to  
>be gentle. "You know I didn't invite you here for this," he said<br>softly.  
>"Careful," she whispered back. "I might start to think<br>you're nice." She reached down and grabbed his beer, then  
>took a long sip.<br>She watched his eyes follow her movement, and she had a  
>pretty good idea what he was thinking when she put the bottle<br>to her lips.  
>Then his eyes narrowed, just a fraction. "How old are you?"<br>he said.  
>She shifted against him, leaning closer, beginning to stroke a<br>hand against his neck. "Does it matter?"  
>He caught her hand. "Yes."<br>Quinn froze and looked at him. "Eighteen," she said. "Too  
>young for you?"<br>He visibly relaxed. "For a second I was worried you were  
>going to tell me you were sixteen or something."<br>SECRET 151  
>A month ago, she had been sixteen. "Yeah, that would've<br>been crazy." She laughed and took another long sip of beer.  
>Tyler watched this, then snatched the bottle out of her hands.<br>He took a long drink and finished it off. "Jesus," he muttered.  
>"You are sixteen."<br>"Seventeen," she whispered.  
>He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the<br>chair. Several times.  
>"Trying to get the blood flow back to the head that matters?"<br>she said.  
>"Trying to figure out if I'm committing a felony."<br>"You're not. How old are you?"  
>"Twenty-one."<br>"Four years. We could have been in high school together."  
>That seemed to settle him. "So you're a senior?"<br>"Junior. And what, you're a junior in college? It's totally like  
>the same thing."<br>That made him smile.  
>"Is this more of your freaky honor code?" she said. "Murdering<br>an innocent family is okay, but a slight gap in age—"  
>"They're not innocent," Tyler snapped.<br>"Quick, bang your other head against the chair. Too much  
>thinking is going on."<br>Tyler sighed. He put his hands on her waist, almost a caress.  
>But then he tightened his grip as if he was going to set her on her<br>feet.  
>"Wait," Quinn said, putting her hands over his. "Don't stop<br>it. Please."  
>"Why?"<br>A genuine question. So she gave him a genuine answer. "Because  
>I like you," she said.<br>His thumbs stroked over her abdomen. "I like you, too."  
>"Maybe we should go back to Little League," she said.<br>"What?"  
>"Or at least the minors."<br>His eyebrows went up. "Are you telling me to slow down?"  
>152 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Not for my benefit. For yours, old man."  
>Now he definitely looked like he was going to put her on her<br>feet. So she rotated in his hands to sit against him again. She  
>pressed her face into his neck. "Sing me another song?"<br>He hesitated just long enough that she thought he'd refuse.  
>But then he picked up the guitar, set it across her lap, and<br>started to play.


	16. Chapter 16

While he slept, Nick forgot about the lunch table argument  
>with his brothers. Or rather, his brother. Maybe it was<br>Quinn's drama, maybe it was the peace and quiet of Adam's  
>apartment, but creepy didn't come crashing back into his brain<br>until Gabriel opened the bathroom door the next morning,  
>while Nick was brushing his teeth.<br>Every muscle in his body tensed. He wanted to shove Gabriel  
>back out and slam the door in his face.<br>Instead, he spit toothpaste into the sink and wiped his mouth  
>without looking at him.<br>"What is up with you?" said Gabriel.  
>"Nothing is up with me." Nick moved to edge past him.<br>Gabriel caught him around the neck and roughed up his hair.  
>"I know how to make you talk, Nicky."<br>The motion was good-natured, the kind of thing that would  
>usually make him laugh.<br>But Nick twisted free and shoved Gabriel into the wall so  
>hard it rattled the towel rack. He pinned him there and forced<br>his voice to stay low. "Leave me alone. Okay?"  
>Gabriel stared at him, identical blue eyes searching his. He<br>could have fought back, but he didn't. "Sure, Nick. Whatever  
>you want."<br>Whatever you want. Yeah, right.  
>Nick let him go and stepped into the hallway, jerking the<br>door shut behind him. His throat felt tight, and he had no idea  
>what expression was on his face, but it must not have been<br>good. Chris stood there in the hallway, and when Nick met his  
>eyes, Chris put his hands up and took a step back.<br>Damn it. He couldn't find the right rhythm with anyone  
>lately.<br>Nick went into his bedroom and closed the door. Hunter was  
>already downstairs, his air mattress made like a military bunk.<br>Nick sat on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands.  
>Part of him wished Gabriel had fought back, had pushed and<br>needled and forced the truth out of him.  
>Part of him wanted to go back in the bathroom and punch his<br>twin brother.  
>A knock sounded at his door.<br>Nick stared at the six-foot panel of wood and wondered if  
>fate was going to deliver those options on a silver platter.<br>Then the door cracked open, just enough to let his younger  
>brother peek through. "It's Chris." A pause. "Can I come in?"<br>Nick sighed. "Sure."  
>Chris opened the door, but he didn't come inside. He leaned<br>against the doorjamb and looked hesitant. "I don't want to get  
>in the middle of something, here."<br>Please. Pry. Tell me you've figured everything out.  
>"It's fine," Nick said. It wasn't even seven a.m. and he was already<br>exhausted. "What's up?"  
>"Are you and Quinn all right?"<br>Nick let out a frustrated breath. "Why does everyone keep  
>asking me that?"<br>"Because you look like you want to kill someone, and that's  
>usually Michael's gig."<br>"I don't want to kill anyone."  
>Except Tyler. And maybe Gabriel.<br>Chris came all the way into the room and dropped onto the  
>side of the bed. "Becca told me to ask if you guys wanted to<br>come over to her place tonight. We're going to get a pizza, rent  
>a movie. Hang out." He waggled his eyebrows. "Et cetera."<br>SECRET 155  
>There was a time when Nick would have jumped at the<br>chance, just to force other things out of his brain. And, he admitted  
>to himself, to keep up appearances. He and Gabriel used<br>to take girls out together, just because they could. But since he  
>and Chris had been dating Quinn and Becca, they'd done the<br>double date thing a few times.  
>Now, however, he was glad to have a reason to refuse. "I<br>can't. I told Mike I would babysit."  
>Chris smiled. "Sucker. I knew you'd say yes."<br>Of course he did. Nick always did what his brothers needed.  
>Maybe Chris read his darkening mood, because he lost the<br>smile before Nick could say anything. "Well, I said I would  
>ask." He paused and looked at the wall like something interesting<br>was happening there. He didn't say anything for a long time,  
>but the air felt heavy, and Nick waited. Chris wasn't a talker,<br>and when he had something to say, it took him a while to get  
>around to it.<br>When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "If something is  
>going on, you can tell me. I know you always tell Gabriel everything,<br>but—I'll keep your secret, too."  
>Nick looked at him. He didn't know what to say.<br>When Becca's father had come to town to kill them all, he'd  
>trapped Chris and Nick in a walk-in freezer. Nick's leg had been<br>broken, and he'd barely been able to move. Just another instance  
>where he wasn't strong enough to save anyone. Michael<br>and Gabriel had rescued them.  
>For the first time, Nick realized that Chris hadn't been able to<br>save himself, either. And Chris might have been a year younger,  
>but he sure as hell wasn't weak.<br>Nick had been quiet too long. Chris finally turned away from  
>the wall and met his eyes.<br>There were too many variables here. Nick worried the tension  
>in his body might rattle it to pieces.<br>His cell phone buzzed on his nightstand. Nick jumped. He  
>could see the screen lit up with a text message, but he couldn't<br>see the sender.  
>156 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Chris was closer. If he looked over, he'd see it.  
>He didn't look.<br>Nick ran a hand through his hair, putting some order to the  
>mess Gabriel had made. "I need to finish getting ready for<br>school."  
>Chris nodded. "Me, too." He hesitated in the doorway. "If<br>you see Quinn, please tell her Becca's really worried about her.  
>She's not responding to her texts or anything."<br>Join the club. But at least Nick could offer an explanation for  
>this. "I told Quinn the truth. About us. I think she's upset that<br>she didn't learn about it from Becca."  
>Chris winced. "That's not Bec's fault."<br>Nick smiled. "Girls."  
>Chris didn't smile back. "I'll tell her. See you in the car."<br>He was barely out the door before Nick grabbed his phone.  
>Not Adam. Quinn.<br>Still alive. I've got a ride to school.  
>Nick sighed and wished he knew how to fix this. He shoved<br>the phone in his pocket and grabbed his backpack.  
>He was halfway down the steps when he realized what Chris<br>had said.  
>If you see Quinn.<br>If. Not when.  
>I'll keep your secret, too.<br>His secret. Not Quinn's.  
>It wasn't enough to be absolutely certain, but Nick could<br>connect the dots. Chris might not know for sure.  
>But he'd guessed.<br>The homeroom bell hadn't rung yet, but it was close. Quinn  
>shoved a notebook in her bag and swung her locker shut.<br>Only to find Becca standing there.  
>Perfect, pretty Becca, with all those special secrets she didn't<br>think to share.  
>SECRET 157<br>Quinn shouldered her backpack and started walking.  
>"Come on," said Becca. "Would you at least tell me what<br>you're so pissed about?"  
>"Why don't you ask your boyfriend? Maybe he could write a<br>message in steam or something."  
>Well, that shut Becca up.<br>But only for a second. "Please—would you stop walking? I  
>wanted to tell you, Quinn." She hesitated. "You had so much<br>going on, and I—"  
>"Don't you dare make this about me. You don't know anything<br>about me."  
>"Because you won't say anything! I've been trying to talk to<br>you all week!"  
>Like Becca would be able to relate to Quinn's problems.<br>"Forget it. You're right. I have too much going on."  
>"It wasn't only my secret to tell," Becca said quietly. "If Nick<br>told you everything, then you know they're in danger."  
>Quinn stopped and looked at her. She made her voice equally<br>low. "And so are you. Didn't feel like sharing that? Didn't feel  
>like mentioning how some guys came after you with a gun?<br>Maybe if I'd known that, I wouldn't have spent the night making  
>out with—"<br>She cut herself off. What was wrong with her? She'd almost  
>sold Nick out again. And while Tyler didn't have any reason to<br>tell the Merricks, Becca would definitely tell Chris something  
>was up.<br>But all of a sudden, she hated denying the night she'd spent  
>with Tyler. The kissing in the darkness, surrounded by his arms,<br>her ears full of his raspy voice and the strum of his guitar.  
>Becca was staring at her.<br>"With Nick," Quinn finished.  
>And of course, thinking of kissing Nick felt . . . wrong. She<br>remembered what a fool she'd made of herself that night he'd let  
>her sleep in his bed. She turned away from Becca again. "I need<br>to get to class."  
>Becca didn't say anything for the longest time, until Quinn<br>didn't think she was going to bother.  
>158 Brigid Kemmerer<br>And that, more than anything, made Quinn's throat tighten.  
>Then Becca called, "I miss you."<br>Quinn hesitated. She wondered what would happen if she  
>turned around, walked back to Becca, and told her everything.<br>She thought of the cops coming to her apartment, and wondered  
>if she even had a home to return to. She had no illusions that<br>she could keep sleeping in Tyler's second bedroom. She didn't even  
>know if she wanted to.<br>But Becca wouldn't understand this. There were too many  
>variables, too many what-ifs. Too many secrets.<br>Quinn looked at her. "I miss you, too." Then she turned  
>around and kept walking.<br>Becca didn't come after her.  
>And the worst part was, Quinn really wished she would.<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

Nick had had no idea babysitting would be so exhausting.  
>He and James played hide-and-seek in the woods until<br>dark. Not much of a challenge for Nick, who merely had to ask  
>the air to locate the boy, but he could pretend to seek. Then tag.<br>Then football in the lengthening shadows of twilight. Nick made  
>a good show of falling down when sixty pounds of kindergartner<br>tackled him.  
>Just when the edge of the sun dropped below the horizon,<br>something foreign brushed Nick's senses.  
>It didn't feel malicious, but Nick grabbed James, tossing the<br>boy in the air while he laughed and shrieked.  
>Nick ignored that and cast his senses wide.<br>Nothing.  
>He dragged James inside anyway. The kid promptly dumped<br>a massive plastic tub of Legos in the middle of the living room  
>floor.<br>Then he grinned up at Nick. "Can we build a whole city?"  
>So they built a whole city.<br>His phone buzzed around eight, just when he was telling  
>James that yes, his mother did want him to brush his teeth. Nick<br>slid the phone out of his pocket with his heart in his throat, hoping  
>for a message from Adam.<br>He hadn't heard from him all day.  
>Not Adam. Michael.<br>Hannah's folks are going to come pick up James so he can  
>sleep in his own bed.<br>And that was it. Typical.  
>Nick texted back.<br>How was dinner?  
>Terrifying.<br>A pause, then another message appeared.  
>Good call on the haircut.<br>Nick smiled.  
>"Can I play Angry Birds?" James asked through a mouthful<br>of toothpaste.  
>Nick slid his fingers across the keys. "In a minute."<br>Are you coming home?  
>Going out for a while. Don't wait up.<br>When Hannah's parents showed up, they didn't look like they  
>wanted to kill anyone, so Nick figured the dinner had gone pretty<br>well. Hannah's mother was a petite blond woman in a sweater  
>set, and she tried to give Nick sixty dollars for babysitting. He<br>turned it down.  
>The fire marshal looked at him long and hard, reminding<br>Nick that this guy had interrogated his twin brother a few  
>weeks ago.<br>But Hannah's mother stepped between them to kiss him on  
>the cheek and say thank you. The fire marshal shook his hand.<br>James gave him a hug.  
>SECRET 161<br>Then Nick had the house to himself.  
>He couldn't remember the last time that had happened.<br>He grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator and dragged  
>his physics textbook out of his backpack.<br>As soon as he looked at the page, he realized he didn't want  
>to be doing this.<br>His cell phone rang.  
>Nick looked at the display and smiled. He pushed the button<br>to answer. "You are my hero."  
>"I like the sound of that." Adam's voice was rich and warm<br>in his ear, and Nick realized this was the first time they'd talked  
>on the phone.<br>He wanted him to keep talking.  
>"How was dance?"<br>"Could've been better." Adam sighed, and his voice was  
>tired. "Quinn didn't show up."<br>Nick ran a hand down his face, feeling his emotions vacillate  
>between worry and exasperation. "Man, I'm sorry."<br>"She texted me that she couldn't make it. It's all right . . .  
>man."<br>Nick could hear the smile in his voice. "What are you going  
>to do?"<br>"Would you think less of me if I said I had a backup routine?"  
>"I wouldn't think less of you if you had a backup partner."<br>"Good. I've got one of those, too."  
>Nick blinked. "Really?"<br>"Nothing official, but I could get one of the girls from the  
>studio to dance with me. I liked Quinn for this piece because it's<br>raw and edgy and passionate, and she fit the part." He sighed.  
>"Enough about dance. How's your night?"<br>"The height of awesome. I'm sitting in an empty house with  
>my physics textbook."<br>"Want to come over?"  
>Nick's heart bounced around in his chest. "Can't. I don't<br>have the car."  
>"How long are you alone?"<br>162 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"I don't know. Three hours, maybe?"<br>Adam hesitated. "Want some company?"  
>Just the words sent a curl of desire winding through Nick's<br>thoughts. He told his thoughts to get real. "God, I wish."  
>"How far do you live from a bus stop?"<br>Nick straightened. Adam could not come here. Could not. "I  
>have no idea."<br>"How far do you live from Ritchie Highway?"  
>Nick wet his lips and hesitated. He should be telling Adam<br>that there was no way this could work. But when he opened his  
>mouth, he found himself saying, "Three blocks. We're on Chautauga.<br>Just south of the community college."  
>"Near the firehouse, right?"<br>Of course Adam would know the area. "Ah . . . yeah."  
>"I can be there in fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops." Adam's<br>voice dropped. "So let me ask you again. Want some company?"  
>Quinn sat in Tyler's truck and stared at her apartment building.<br>Her mom's car was in the lot. So was Jake's. That didn't  
>mean much other than that their cars hadn't been towed. If her<br>brother had been arrested, his car could still be here, right?  
>What about her mom?<br>She'd been waiting for a call to the guidance office all day, expecting  
>to find a social worker sitting in the waiting room or<br>something. She was prepared for hushed voices to say things  
>like, "We didn't realize how bad things had gotten. We have a<br>few options, but we're going to take care of you . . ."  
>But that call never came. Quinn slogged through her classes,<br>making her way toward the end of the day, hating the thought  
>of going home.<br>She'd been ready to ride the bus all night, but Tyler texted to  
>ask if she wanted to be his rooftop companion for the evening.<br>Without Nick, she didn't have a ride to the dance studio.  
>Without Tyler, she didn't have a place to sleep for the night.<br>Rooftop taquitos it was.  
>It had been nice to sit in the nighttime quiet, to eat and drink<br>SECRET 163  
>and not worry that someone was going to hassle her. She'd told<br>Tyler about school, about waiting for the call that never came.  
>She'd confided her fears that her brother might have done something<br>to her mother. That maybe Jordan had come home and  
>Jake had hurt him. That maybe the cops hadn't come at all.<br>That maybe Quinn had walked out of one mess, only to leave a  
>bigger disaster in her wake.<br>"You don't have to go up there," said Tyler. "I can check on  
>them if you want."<br>Quinn shook her head. Sit down here and wonder if her  
>brother was going to answer the door with a gun in his hand?<br>"I'll go. Wait here."  
>"You're insane if you think I'm letting you go up there<br>alone."  
>"You're insane if you think I'm letting you—"<br>"Jesus, do you need to be balls-to-the-wall about everything?  
>If you want to go up, go up. I won't get in your way."<br>She thought that meant he was going to wait in the truck  
>after all, but when she climbed the stairs, he was right behind<br>her.  
>Halfway up, she stopped short at the tiny landing. "Am I<br>being an idiot?"  
>"Of everyone I've met in your family, you seem like the least<br>idiotic."  
>Well, that wasn't really saying all that much. "My mom and<br>I—we've never gotten along."  
>"I kind of assumed that when you told me she was knocking<br>you around."  
>"She's not—she's under a lot of stress—"<br>"So are you. So am I. I don't give a shit, Quinn. Your mom is  
>messed up. So is your brother. And what the fuck is your dad—"<br>"Okay, okay. Forget it." She spun away from him.  
>"No. Stop." Tyler caught her shoulders, gently, securely. "She's<br>your mother. I understand."  
>Quinn hated tears. Hated them. Especially hated that they<br>were flocking to her eyes right this very second.  
>164 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"We don't have to go inside," said Tyler. "Knock on the door,  
>make sure she's okay, and we'll leave."<br>"And then what?"  
>Tyler sighed. "We'll go back to my place. You can figure out<br>what to do."  
>She shrugged his hands off. "Try not to sound so enthusiastic—"<br>He spun her around and seized her arms. "Stop it. Do you  
>just need someone to call your bluff? Fine. Called. Get your ass<br>up there so we can get out of here. You don't need to be afraid.  
>I'm right here."<br>Quinn stared up at him and gritted her teeth. She wanted to  
>jerk away from him.<br>Sort of.  
>Okay, not at all.<br>She took a long breath. "I'm worried he's still here," she said,  
>her voice small.<br>"Tony?"  
>The dark-haired creeper. She shook her head, then nodded.<br>"Or my brother."  
>His expression softened. "Do you want to call your mom<br>again?"  
>Quinn had been trying all day. Her mom's mobile phone had<br>been ringing straight to voice mail every time. She routinely let  
>the battery die, so it wasn't really a sign of anything.<br>But it bought her another thirty seconds, so Quinn tried  
>again.<br>Voice mail. Quinn checked her texts to see if her little brother  
>had written back yet, but he hadn't. A phone call to him had<br>gone unanswered, too.  
>Wind swirled through the open staircase and Quinn shivered<br>and thought of Nick. She should have been dancing tonight,  
>stretching her muscles in a warm studio, leaping and twirling<br>through Adam's routine.  
>Not trembling on her apartment building's staircase, wondering<br>if her mom was lying dead in her apartment.  
>SECRET 165<br>She steeled her nerve and turned for the steps again. "Come on."  
>Quinn pulled her key ring out of her pocket, but when she<br>slid the key into the deadbolt and turned, she discovered that  
>the lock was already thrown. Feeling her heart in her throat, she<br>reached out and twisted the knob.  
>As always, the foyer was a well of quiet stillness. Quinn<br>stepped lightly anyway, moving slowly along the carpeting. Tyler  
>was a shadow at her back, mirroring her movements, creeping<br>into the apartment as if they didn't have a right to be here.  
>Everything felt wrong. The air carried tension. She expected<br>to step on a dead body.  
>Stop thinking of dead people, she told herself.<br>Her cell phone blared into the silence. Quinn almost broke an  
>ankle from jumping so hard.<br>She fought for the correct button to stop the call, but then she  
>realized the display was lit up with Jordan.<br>She pressed the button to answer. "Hey," she said quickly, her  
>voice a whispered rush. He was fourteen and jaded, but he wasn't<br>an addict or an alcoholic. If she could help anyone in her family,  
>it was Jordan. "Where are you? You okay?"<br>"Yeah. Fine."  
>He didn't sound fine.<br>"Have you heard from Mom?" Quinn said.  
>"Yeah."<br>That was all he said. Quinn could hear him breathing, heavy  
>and rough on the other end of the phone.<br>"Where are you?" she said.  
>"At Kurt Culpeper's. Mom said—she said—" His voice<br>broke. She heard snuffling.  
>"Jordan," she said. "Jordan, what happened? Where's Mom?"<br>"Hold on." His breaths were jagged now, and she heard a  
>door close. "She said I can't come back there." Another shaky<br>breath. "She said she couldn't—she couldn't—"  
>And then he was crying.<br>Quinn sank onto the couch, distantly aware of Tyler sitting  
>beside her, probably close enough to hear half of what Jordan<br>was saying.  
>166 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Her younger brother barely talked to her except to ask when  
>she'd be done with the television so he could play with his<br>PlayStation. It was unthinkable he would be crying to her on the  
>phone, and Quinn didn't know how to deal with this.<br>And where the hell was her mother?  
>"Are you okay?" she said. "Jordan, are you safe where<br>you are?"  
>"Yeah." He sniffled loudly and got it together. "Kurt's mom<br>said I could stay through the weekend. I told her Mom and Dad  
>were going out of town. I was going to stay at Jeremy's, but his<br>mom always wants to call."  
>"What happened with Mom?"<br>"I came home for clothes and she—she—" Crying again.  
>Tyler leaned into her and caught her eye. "Tell him we'll<br>come get him," he said. "See if he can get you an address."  
>"Do you want us to come get you?" said Quinn. "I'm with a<br>friend."  
>Jordan's voice tightened right up. "Gross. I don't want to<br>hang out with you and your boyfriend."  
>Fear and tension caught up with Quinn. "Damn it, Jordan,<br>I'm trying to—"  
>"Stop screaming at me, Quinn! I'm sick of people screaming<br>at me!"  
>She so didn't need this. Quinn inhaled to lay into him, but<br>Tyler plucked the phone out of her hand. "Hey, man, this is  
>Quinn's friend Tyler. Are you all right where you are, or do you<br>want us to come get you?"  
>His voice was level, easy, very we're-all-bros-in-this-together.<br>And Jordan was responding, from the bits she could hear.  
>Quinn stared at Tyler, wondering if she should grab the phone<br>or kiss him.  
>Then Tyler said, "No, you're right. It sucks, kid. It does.<br>Look, see if you can get a pen. I'll give you my number. If you  
>change your mind, call me. We'll come get you. All right?"<br>Then he gave his number, got her brother to promise to use it,  
>and pushed the button to end the call.<br>Quinn couldn't stop staring at him. She'd never met anyone  
>SECRET 167<br>like him, so self-assured and confident yet not completely into  
>himself.<br>"What?" said Tyler.  
>She shook herself. "Nothing. Let's get out—"<br>She froze. Her mother stood by the corner leading to the galley  
>kitchen. A threadbare bathrobe clung to her frame, and<br>Quinn was glad the belt seemed securely knotted, because the  
>drooping shoulder showed that her mom wasn't wearing anything<br>beneath the terry cloth. She'd showered at some point, because  
>her hair had dried into unbrushed clumps, but from the<br>waves of alcohol emanating from her, she'd been hitting the bottle  
>since then.<br>The expression in her eyes was terrifying. A trophy was  
>clutched in one hand. A basketball trophy. One of Jake's.<br>Quinn wasn't sure whether to be relieved her mom was still  
>alive, or disgusted that she was obviously still obsessed with<br>Jake's success.  
>Then her mother spoke.<br>"How could you do that?" she said, her voice cracked and  
>raw. And slurring. She took a few steps toward the couch.<br>"How could you, Quinn?"  
>Quinn swallowed. "I didn't—I didn't do—"<br>"Shut up! Shut up! You're out whoring around and now you—"  
>"I'm not whoring around!" Quinn was on her feet, ready to<br>get in her mother's face.  
>"Take it easy." Tyler had a hand on her arm, and his voice<br>was quiet. "Let's just walk out."  
>"Shut up!" Quinn's mom shrieked. "You were here, too! You<br>did this! He had a future, you bitch! You screw up everything!  
>Everything!"<br>"I didn't do anything!" Now Quinn was crying, and she didn't  
>care. "He was—"<br>"Shut up!" The words were practically unintelligible with  
>rage. "Shut the fuck up! You did this! You!"<br>And then, without warning, her mom crumpled to the carpet,  
>sobbing, the trophy pressed to her face.<br>168 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Quinn stood there, shaking. She couldn't breathe. She didn't<br>know what to do.  
>Tyler's voice was low. "Let's get out of here, Quinn."<br>But she couldn't leave, not like this. Some part of her couldn't  
>leave her mother a weeping mess on the floor. The drooping side<br>of the bathrobe gaped now, revealing a sagging breast. Hair was  
>sticking to her mother's saliva. She wailed.<br>Quinn went to her, dropping to her knees. "Mom. Mom,  
>stop. Please, let me help you." She put a hand on a shaky shoulder.<br>"Mom, it's okay—"  
>"Don't touch me! You ruin everything!"<br>Then her mom swung at her with the trophy.  
>Quinn didn't even see it coming. The marble base caught her<br>square in the face. She saw stars. Constellations. Whole frigging  
>galaxies. Then blackness.<br>She wasn't out for long. She came to in Tyler's arms, still in  
>her apartment foyer. Her mother was shrieking at them to get<br>out, to get the fuck out, to get that whore out of her apartment.  
>Quinn couldn't seem to get her eyes to focus on anything, from<br>Tyler's face, to the doorway, to the dashboard in front of her  
>when Tyler buckled her into the seat.<br>"Fuck this," he said, starting his ignition, but not shifting  
>into gear. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.<br>Quinn struggled to get her limbs to respond. "No," she said.  
>"No police."<br>Tyler sucked in a long breath and touched her face. "Sweetheart,  
>I think you need an ambulance."<br>"No. Please. No. They'll call—they'll call—"  
>She couldn't get her voice to work, and she realized she was<br>crying.  
>"Shh," said Tyler. "It's all right. I'll just drive you to the hospital.<br>Okay?" He shifted into gear.  
>"No. No. They'll make me go to a foster home or something.<br>Please, Tyler. Please." She was hiccupping now, ugly crying, full  
>out. "Please. No."<br>He stopped at the end of the parking lot and looked at her.  
>SECRET 169<br>"You need help. She might have broken your cheekbone." He  
>winced. "Your face is already swelling."<br>She knew it was. She could feel it all the way into her eye.  
>"Can't you heal it?"<br>He looked back at the road. His voice was suddenly hollow.  
>"I don't know. I don't know if I could."<br>"Nick healed me once. Please, Tyler. Please, I can't—I can't—"  
>"Okay," he said softly. "Okay." He rubbed at his temples,<br>then pulled out of the parking lot.  
>"No hospital," she said. Her words were slurring, and it reminded<br>her of her mother. That made fresh tears well.  
>You ruin everything.<br>Her breath caught and stuttered.  
>"Easy," said Tyler. "No hospital, okay?"<br>"Then where?" He hit a bump and a wave of pain swept  
>through her face, and she almost reconsidered.<br>"The beach," he said. "I need fire."  
>Quinn felt like time somehow vanished.<br>Stars scattered overhead, spinning wildly every time she  
>moved her eyes. She lay in the sand, beside a roaring bonfire<br>that seemed to stretch a mile high. The heat was intense, forcing  
>sweat from her skin. Her head pounded like her mother kept<br>swinging that trophy over and over again.  
>Tyler crouched over her, stroking his finger along her cheek,<br>so lightly that Quinn barely felt it. "She broke the skin, too."  
>Quinn sniffed and put a hand to her eyes, but she felt the<br>edge of the swelling and dropped her hand. "I don't—I don't  
>know why she hates me."<br>"I don't think she hates you, baby girl," he said. "I think she  
>hates herself."<br>She gave half a choked sob. "I feel ridiculous when you call  
>me that."<br>"Do you want me to stop?"  
>She shook her head. The motion hurt. She wanted to throw<br>up. Nausea meant broken bones, didn't it? She was terrified to  
>touch her cheek, to feel whether anything would shift.<br>170 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Heal it," she said. "Please."<br>"Quinn—" His voice was tight. Distressed. "Maybe I should  
>just take you to the hospital. This was a bad idea."<br>"No. No, I'm okay." She struggled to get her arm underneath  
>her.<br>Wrong idea. The horizon shifted. So did the contents of her  
>stomach. She gagged and almost threw up.<br>"Whoa," said Tyler. He gently eased her back down. The fire  
>seemed to blaze brighter, or maybe her eyes were playing tricks.<br>"Are you worried?" she said.  
>"Worried?" He leaned close, his eyes picking up the glow<br>from the fire.  
>"That you can't do it?"<br>He grimaced and looked at the fire. "No."  
>She wanted to punch him, but she'd probably end up puking<br>all over him instead. "Then what—why won't you help me?" A  
>thought occurred to her and she started crying again, shaking<br>sobs that made her head pulse with pain. "Do you hate me, too?  
>Did I fuck it up with you, too? Did I—"<br>"No! No, Quinn. No." He leaned close again, pressing a  
>hand to her cheek. His palm was fire-hot, but it didn't hurt. Instead,<br>she wanted to lean into it.  
>Then heat surged through her veins, fire swirling through<br>every blood vessel, making her gasp.  
>"I'm not worried because I don't think I can help you," Tyler<br>said quietly, his eyes afraid, his expression intense. His voice  
>dropped until she could barely hear him over the flames. "I'm<br>worried because I know I can."


	18. Chapter 18

When Adam knocked on the front door, eagerness and  
>panic were waging a full-on wrestling match in Nick's<br>stomach. What was he supposed to do, text everyone something  
>like, Just want to make sure you'll all be out past eleven. Nothing<br>to see here. Just me and my textbook.  
>He'd taken the fastest shower in the history of time and<br>changed clothes, but it left him feeling more on edge. The whole  
>five minutes he'd been in the shower, he worried Adam would<br>show up at the same time as one of his brothers.  
>But now Adam was here, knocking, and Nick couldn't seem<br>to get the door open fast enough.  
>Somehow Adam managed to look better every time he saw<br>him. The porch light threaded his hair with gold and painted  
>shadows under his cheekbones.<br>"You look nervous," said Adam.  
>"I am nervous," Nick breathed. But you're here. You're on<br>my doorstep. You're in my space, and I don't want you to go.  
>Adam didn't wait for an invitation. He moved across the<br>threshold and pushed the door closed quietly behind him. "Are  
>we still alone?"<br>"Yeah."  
>Adam stepped forward and kissed him. Nothing hesitant,<br>nothing unsure. Simply the soft pressure of his lips against  
>Nick's mouth. Then the first brush of tongue, lighting sparks in<br>Nick's body, sending his thoughts reeling. The room felt  
>warmer, the air soft and welcoming, eager for the way his mood<br>lightened in Adam's presence.  
>Adam shifted closer, until Nick could feel the heat of his chest<br>and the brush of his hips. Then closer, his hands finding Nick's  
>face and winding in his hair.<br>Nick made a low sound and slid his hands under Adam's  
>coat, finding the warm muscled span of his waist.<br>Adam drew back and smiled. His voice was soft in the space  
>between them. "Keep going like that and we'll never leave the<br>foyer."  
>"Is it wrong that I don't care?"<br>Adam laughed. "I want to see where you live."  
>"It's very exciting. Here, give me your coat." And your shirt,<br>and your—  
>"It is exciting." Adam shrugged out of his coat. "And I might<br>not get another chance."  
>Well, that was sobering. But Nick took his coat and stashed it<br>in the front closet.  
>Adam followed him through the lower level without much<br>comment, until they came full circle to the staircase.  
>"No pictures," said Adam.<br>"What?"  
>"There aren't any pictures anywhere. Of your family. Or—"<br>He hesitated, as if realizing he'd made a misstep. "Of your  
>brothers."<br>Nick shrugged, but his shoulders felt tense again. "We used  
>to have some. They were destroyed."<br>"Fire?"  
>Nick shook his head. "It's—it's a long story."<br>A lie. It was a pretty short story, really. He didn't want to relive  
>it, but his brain was more than happy to supply the memories.<br>While Nick and his brothers were at their parents' funeral,  
>Tyler and his best friend Seth had broken into the house. They'd<br>destroyed every picture they could find.  
>Nick remembered coming home, still shaken from watching<br>SECRET 173  
>glossy wooden boxes lowered into the ground, and finding shattered<br>glass everywhere. Michael had called the cops. Chris had  
>holed up in his room to cry. Gabriel had stormed out—probably<br>on a mission of vengeance.  
>Nick had cleaned up the mess.<br>Five years, and the memory still had the power to knock the  
>breath out of him. "I don't really want to talk about this."<br>"I'm sorry," Adam said softly. "I didn't mean—"  
>"It's fine." Nick tried to shake off the emotion, but it wouldn't<br>loosen. "It's a stupid thing to be upset about—I mean, we still  
>have old memory cards and stuff. We just—we never reprinted<br>anything. And then after they were gone, no one really felt like  
>taking pictures of anything meaningful."<br>"Your brothers weren't into trips to Sears wearing identical  
>sweaters?"<br>Nick half smiled. "No."  
>Adam pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. "Say<br>cheese."  
>"Don't take my—"<br>"Too late." He turned it around so Nick could see.  
>Adam had snapped the picture before Nick had started talking,<br>so the photo captured his mouth in a thin line. His shoulders  
>were hunched and his eyes dark.<br>"Delete it," he said.  
>"No way." Adam leaned close to whisper along his jaw. "I<br>felt like taking a picture of something meaningful."  
>Nick blushed. There was a good chance he might melt right<br>down these steps.  
>Adam grinned and said, "Wait, now I need another picture."<br>This time, Nick let him, but then he snatched the phone out  
>of Adam's fingers.<br>"If you delete them, I'll just have to take more."  
>"I'm not deleting them." Nick turned the phone around and<br>took a picture of Adam. Unruly hair, crooked smile, solid grip  
>on Nick's heart.<br>He texted it to himself.  
>174 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Adam took his hand and tugged. "Come on. Show me the  
>upstairs."<br>At the top of the stairs, Nick pointed at each room in turn.  
>"Chris, Michael, Gabriel, me. And the bathroom. I told you:<br>thrilling."  
>But there was something thrilling about Adam's being here,<br>in the upstairs hallway, breathing the same air. Anxiety had  
>faded, leaving only longing and contentment.<br>Adam started forward, and Nick expected him to head for  
>his bedroom. But Adam went to Gabriel's door.<br>Nick didn't follow him, but he crossed his arms to lean  
>against the wall. He didn't want to think about Gabriel now.<br>"I expected your brother to be a slob," Adam said, leaning  
>around the door frame to peer in.<br>Gabriel kind of was a slob, but they'd all learned pretty  
>quickly that if they left the place a mess, there wasn't anyone<br>around to pick up after them. Nick frowned. "Why?"  
>"Because he's careless."<br>"He's not—"  
>"He is. He's hurting you and he doesn't even realize it."<br>Nick couldn't exactly deny that.  
>Adam abandoned Gabriel's room and moved to Nick's doorway.<br>"Can I go in?"  
>Nick nodded and followed.<br>But Adam stopped short. Nick knew what he'd spotted without  
>even seeing around him. "What's with the air mattress?"<br>"Hunter sleeps there. He's my temporary roommate."  
>"You didn't say you had a roommate."<br>Nick shrugged. "I don't really think about it." He smiled.  
>"Jealous?"<br>"Maybe."  
>"Don't be. He's going through some stuff with his mom."<br>Nick paused and stepped around him to turn on the light. "He's  
>also Gabriel's best friend."<br>Adam pulled out the desk chair and straddled it backward,  
>leaning his arms on the back. "Then why doesn't he room with<br>Gabriel?"  
>SECRET 175<br>Nick shrugged and dropped onto the end of his bed. "I have  
>more floor space. Gabriel and I used to share this room, until . . .<br>well, until we didn't have to anymore."  
>Until his parents had died, and Michael finally got around to<br>cleaning out the master bedroom. It hadn't happened right  
>away. Two years had passed before any of them felt like changing<br>around the sleeping arrangements.  
>Gabriel had been eager for his own space. Nick hadn't wanted<br>him to go.  
>And now the tables were turned, with a drawer full of college<br>letters offering him a way out of this house. Maybe out of this  
>town.<br>"So serious," said Adam quietly. "What's rolling around in  
>your head?"<br>Nothing he wanted to talk about. "I'm glad you're here."  
>"Me, too." Adam paused, then unwound himself from the<br>chair to join Nick on the end of the bed. He found Nick's hand  
>and threaded their fingers together.<br>Then he said, "Are you still hoarding a stack of unopened  
>mail?"<br>"Yeah."  
>"Why haven't you opened them? What are you afraid of?"<br>Nick shook his head. "I don't know."  
>Adam hesitated. "I don't think that's true. You know."<br>He was right. Nick did know. Opening those letters would  
>force him to make a choice. A decision about where his life was<br>going.  
>A decision about staying or leaving.<br>"It's so different for you," Nick said. "You know you want to  
>be a dancer. You know you're good at it. I want—I—I don't<br>know."  
>"I don't think it has anything to do with what you want, and<br>more about what you don't want. You don't want to disappoint  
>your brothers." A pause. "Isn't that the same reason you don't<br>want to tell them about you and me?"  
>Nick looked away, but Adam kept a firm grip on his hand.<br>"I'm not chastising you. I understand it. I know I'm disappoint-  
>176 Brigid Kemmerer<br>ing my parents every day. But you know what? I can't live my  
>life for them. I have to live my life for me."<br>"You're disappointing your parents?"  
>Adam scoffed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Please. You<br>think they want their only child to be a dancer? My dad is always  
>asking if I'm sure I don't want to take a few pre-med<br>classes. Me. Pre-med. I can't even slice into frogs in biology."  
>"What does he do?"<br>"He is a doctor." Adam smiled. "Wait, ready for some irony?  
>He's a gynecologist. Mom tells him that he's looked at so many<br>vaginas that I came out predisposed to avoid them."  
>Nick burst out laughing.<br>"There." Adam whipped out his phone and snapped a picture.  
>"I needed one with your smile."<br>"You're incorrigible." But Nick snatched the phone and took  
>another picture—of Adam trying to get it back.<br>They wrestled for it, laughing, rolling, a tangle of limbs and  
>mock fierceness. Then Adam's lips found his, his body trapping<br>Nick on the bed, the hand that had just been grappling for the  
>phone stroking down the length of his chest, finding the hem of<br>his shirt and sliding underneath.  
>For the first time, Nick didn't hesitate at his touch. Maybe it<br>was Adam's admission about his own insecurities, maybe it was  
>the fact that they were here, in his room, in his space. Maybe it<br>was the time limit, knowing this could be cut short at any moment  
>if his brothers came home.<br>Maybe it was Adam's tongue drawing at his.  
>A thumb brushed his nipple and Nick gasped, feeling it all the<br>way through his body. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and  
>broke the kiss long enough to yank it over his head.<br>Adam grinned. "Someone's feeling more comfortable."  
>"Someone's liking the feel of your hands."<br>"Just my hands?" Adam's mouth descended on his neck,  
>trailing lips and breath and teeth along Nick's skin.<br>Nick sucked in a breath—then held it when Adam kissed a  
>line down his chest.<br>SECRET 177  
>Brown eyes flicked up to meet his. "What do you want?"<br>Adam whispered.  
>You.<br>But he couldn't say it.  
>Adam brushed a kiss against his lips, then shifted off the bed.<br>Nick caught his arm. "Don't. Don't go."  
>Low laughter. "I'm not going anywhere." Adam stretched to<br>turn off the light, sending the room into near darkness.  
>When he reached for the door, Nick sat up on his elbows.<br>"Leave it open so I can hear if anyone comes home."  
>Adam closed it halfway. Nick was going to protest even that,<br>but then Adam pulled his shirt over his head, and Nick forgot  
>his own last name.<br>"Whoa," he breathed. "I think you need to turn the light  
>back on."<br>Adam crawled back on the bed, his dusky skin rolling with  
>shadows as he moved. "You sweet-talker."<br>Nick wanted to reach out, to let his fingers drift across the  
>muscled planes of Adam's chest, but he couldn't move. He'd<br>spent so long denying any kind of attraction to a boy that having  
>one shirtless in his bed was making every nerve ending hypersensitive.<br>He felt like a land mine. One touch and he'd  
>explode. "Why did you turn the light off?"<br>Adam eased in close to him, until their chests were touching.  
>He put a hand against Nick's cheek and kissed him. "Because<br>it's easier to turn off worries in the dark."  
>Nick met his eyes in the darkness. "Yours or mine?"<br>"Both." Then Adam kissed him again, a broad hand exploring  
>Nick's chest. Nick touched his face, his shoulder, letting his<br>hands roam. His teeth nipped at Adam's lip, then his jaw.  
>Adam made a soft sound, a good sound. Nick did it again,<br>biting a little harder. The room felt ten degrees warmer. Maybe  
>twenty. He had to be doing it, but he didn't care.<br>Adam trapped one of Nick's legs under his and shifted closer,  
>pressing into him until there was no doubt he was happy to be<br>there. Now Nick couldn't help the low moan that escaped his  
>178 Brigid Kemmerer<br>throat. His breathing quickened, thrusting his chest into Adam's  
>with every inhale.<br>Adam's hand drifted lower, finding Nick's stomach, slow fingers  
>sliding along the waistband of his jeans.<br>Adam's hands, his mouth—Nick couldn't think. His body  
>was acting on instinct, and he couldn't process every emotion.<br>Especially when Adam stopped teasing and stroked his hand  
>over the front of Nick's jeans. No hesitation, no gentleness, but<br>enough grip to steal every thought from Nick's head. He sucked  
>in a breath. The room spun.<br>"Too much?" whispered Adam.  
>"Not enough."<br>Deft fingers flipped the button loose. Before Nick could contemplate  
>exactly what that meant, Adam was touching him.<br>Nick cried out. Adam captured the sound with a kiss.  
>He never wanted this moment to end.<br>And then it did.  
>Someone called his name and the overhead light flipped on.<br>Suddenly Nick was scrambling to right himself.  
>Then Hunter was swiftly backing out of the room, saying,<br>"Oh. Oh, shit. I am—I'm going—I'm sorry—"  
>He slammed the door. Nick heard his footsteps on the stairs<br>as he jogged down.  
>"Fuck," said Nick. He sat up and pressed his hands into his<br>eyes. He was shaking and he couldn't stop. His emotions couldn't  
>handle the abrupt one-eighty. Part of him wanted to cry and another<br>part wanted to punch something. "Fuck."  
>Adam's hands touched his shoulders. "It's okay," he said<br>softly. "It's okay."  
>"It's not okay. He'll tell—I can't—" His voice broke.<br>Hunter would tell Gabriel. He might be telling him right  
>now. Nick could imagine the text messages. Dude. Just found<br>your brother with another guy. No, seriously.  
>Nick choked on his breath. The heat in the room was turning<br>into a bitter chill. He shivered.  
>Adam's arms came around him from behind, holding him.<br>SECRET 179  
>"It'll be okay." He brushed a kiss against Nick's hair. "I<br>promise. It'll be—"  
>Nick jerked free and hit him in the chest, shoving him away<br>with a force driven by rage and fear. "It is not okay!"  
>As soon as he did it, he regretted it. With the light on, he<br>could see every ounce of hurt in Adam's eyes. Every ounce of  
>disappointment.<br>Every ounce of anger.  
>Nick took a breath. "I'm sorry. Adam—wait."<br>But Adam was already pulling his shirt on, shoving his phone  
>into his pocket, heading for the door.<br>Nick went after him, catching his arm. "Please," he said.  
>"I'm sorry."<br>Adam stopped, but he didn't look at him. "Let me go, Nick."  
>"I don't want to." He paused and moved closer. "I'm sorry. I<br>didn't—I wasn't ready for that—"  
>"You know what?" Adam looked at him now. "I've heard it<br>before, okay?"  
>Nick jerked back. "I would never hurt you."<br>"Too late." Adam pulled the door open and kept his voice  
>low. "Let me go. Now."<br>Nick couldn't take the pain in his voice. He'd build a rainbow  
>banner in the front hall announcing his sexuality if it would fix<br>this. "Please. Adam, stay. Please."  
>Now Adam turned and shoved him away, dislodging Nick's<br>grip. "I told you to let me go." He didn't wait for a response,  
>just walked out the door.<br>Nick followed, buttoning his pants as he jogged down the  
>steps after him. He had no shoes, no shirt, but he was ready to<br>follow Adam down the street barefoot if he had to.  
>"Stop," he pleaded. "Wait—wait. At least let me walk you to<br>the bus stop."  
>"I'm not a girl, Nick." Adam didn't even hesitate at the front<br>door.  
>"Please wait. Please—I'm sorry."<br>Adam rounded on him on the porch. His eyes were shining in  
>the light. "You know what sucks about sorry? It's the worst<br>180 Brigid Kemmerer  
>word in the world. Because it always happens after you fuck up<br>something good."  
>Then he turned and started walking. Nick went after him<br>again. Wind whipped between them, whispering of Adam's fury.  
>Adam whirled. "Don't you follow me. I don't want you near<br>me right now. Do you understand? You're so worried about  
>what everyone else will think? I'll make it real easy for you."<br>"Stop it. Let's talk about this."  
>"What's to talk about? You care more about what people<br>think than you care about me. Crystal clear. Message received."  
>He started walking again.<br>Nick took a step, but Adam called over his shoulder. "You  
>follow me, and I'm calling the cops."<br>He was serious. Nick could feel it in the air between them.  
>He could also tell that Adam was crying.<br>It broke his heart and almost sent him running down the  
>driveway.<br>Instead, he dropped onto the wooden steps and watched  
>Adam walk, casting his senses far and wide, feeling Adam's<br>presence even after he disappeared from view. He stayed there,  
>holding on to that tiny connection, until Adam stepped out of<br>range or got on a bus.  
>Nick lost the sense. Adam was gone.<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

Nick eventually had to go back in the house.  
>Hunter was messing around in the kitchen. Nick had no<br>idea what he was doing. He didn't want to face him, but his  
>stomach was in knots wondering if Hunter had texted anything<br>to his brothers. Sitting in his room waiting for them to come  
>home was a little too much like sitting on death row.<br>He found his shirt on his bedroom floor and went back  
>downstairs.<br>But once he was there, he couldn't walk down the hallway.  
>He sat at the bottom of the steps and put his head in his hands.<br>He didn't want to cry, but apparently his emotions didn't give  
>a crap about what he wanted.<br>He'd fucked this up with Adam. He didn't even know how to  
>fix it.<br>He didn't even know if he could.  
>You're going to break my heart. I can feel it.<br>Yeah, he'd sure lived up to that.  
>He wished he could talk to Quinn, but he'd fucked that<br>up, too.  
>The air told him Hunter was in the hallway before he heard him.<br>Nice. Why couldn't the air have told him Hunter was coming  
>into his frigging bedroom?<br>You might've been distracted by Adam's hand down your  
>pants.<br>Nick couldn't look at Hunter. He swiped the last tears off his  
>cheeks. This was so humiliating. All he needed now was for<br>Gabriel to walk through the door.  
>Hunter stopped beside the staircase bannister. He didn't say<br>anything for a long moment.  
>Nick stared at his shoes and waited, ready for mockery. Derision.<br>Anger. Disgust. Something.  
>"I made you a cup of coffee," said Hunter.<br>Surprised, Nick looked up, but only halfway, to see that  
>Hunter carried two mugs.<br>Coffee. So unexpected that it hit Nick like a fist to the face.  
>Honestly, a real fist to the face would have been less surprising.<br>He was so on edge that he was ready for Hunter to say Just kidding  
>and dump it in his lap.<br>"If you want," Hunter said. "I thought you might need  
>some."<br>No malice in his voice, but Nick still couldn't look at him. He  
>reached out and wrapped his hands around the mug, inhaling<br>the steam. "Thanks."  
>"Can I sit down?"<br>Nick nodded.  
>Hunter eased onto the step beside him. "That—that sucked."<br>Nick stared at his coffee. Was Hunter looking for an apology?  
>Or offering one? Tension crawled across his shoulders and<br>dug in its claws.  
>"I'm really sorry," Hunter said quietly. He was staring at his<br>own mug. "I am really, really—"  
>"It's not your fault." He should have closed the door. Or<br>hung a sign.  
>Or really, he should have turned Adam down to begin with.<br>Hunter rubbed at the back of his neck. "I didn't think anyone  
>was home, but then I came in and it was like ninety degrees in<br>here. Your light was off, so I thought maybe you were having a  
>SECRET 183<br>nightmare, especially when . . ." Hunter winced. "Um, when  
>you cried out—"<br>He broke off, and Nick could feel his embarrassment.  
>But that was it. Just embarrassment. None of those other<br>things.  
>Nick cut a glance to the side. He had to clear his throat. "I<br>left the door open so I could hear if someone came home."  
>"I let Casper run for a while. I came in the back door."<br>And, really, Nick had been so wrapped up in Adam that a  
>marching band could have come through the front door and he<br>wouldn't have noticed.  
>The suspense was killing him. His voice was rough. "What<br>did you tell my brothers?"  
>"Are you crazy? Nothing." Hunter hesitated, and his voice<br>turned careful. "They don't know?"  
>Nick shook his head.<br>Hunter let out a sigh. "That's kind of a relief. I thought  
>maybe I was the only one who wasn't in on the secret." Another<br>pause, and his voice held the slightest bit of fascination. "Didn't  
>you sneak Quinn into your bed, like, two nights ago?"<br>Nick twisted the mug in his hands. He still hadn't taken a sip.  
>"I'm not sleeping with Quinn. She needed a place to get away<br>from her family."  
>"So your room is kind of like a haven for the lost and misdirected."<br>Nick looked at him. Hunter's voice was vaguely teasing. He  
>had no idea how to read this. He'd been so ready for an attack<br>that a simple conversation felt like a trap.  
>"Quinn knows. About me. She's a friend."<br>"Does anyone else know?"  
>Nick thought about Chris, and his promise to keep a secret.<br>"I don't think so."  
>"Who's the guy? Does he go to our school?"<br>"Adam." Nick swallowed. "No, he's in college. He's a  
>dancer. A friend of Quinn's."<br>"How long has this been going on?"  
>184 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Not long." He paused. "A few weeks. I met him that week  
>school was closed." He felt like they were side-stepping around<br>something important, and it was killing him. "Look, if you  
>want to change where you sleep, I get it. I can sleep on the<br>couch, or—"  
>"Why would I want to change where I sleep?" Hunter looked<br>at him like he was nuts.  
>"Aren't you bothered?"<br>Hunter rubbed at his jaw and gave a short laugh. He was  
>blushing. "Okay, I'm not going to lie. That totally wasn't what I<br>expected to find when I hit the light switch. But I'm just—I'm  
>surprised. I had no idea. But I'm not upset about it."<br>Nick studied him. He wasn't sure what to say.  
>Hunter studied him back. "For what it's worth, I think you<br>should tell your brothers. Gabriel thinks Quinn is jerking you  
>around. I had to talk him out of going off on her today."<br>Nick made a disgusted noise. "That would've been spectacular."  
>"He's worried about you."<br>"Yeah, okay." He paused and picked up his coffee mug, taking  
>a sip so he didn't have to say anything else. Hunter sat there<br>quietly and didn't say anything, either.  
>But it was nice, Nick realized, to sit with someone who knew<br>yet wasn't openly judging him.  
>Adam hadn't judged him, either. Nick felt fresh tears come to<br>his eyes, and he tried to pinch them away.  
>"Did you guys have a fight?" said Hunter. "You and Adam?"<br>He hesitated, and sounded embarrassed again. "I heard a little,  
>when you came down the stairs."<br>Nick nodded. "When you walked in—I panicked. I didn't exactly  
>take it well."<br>"Man, I am so sorry."  
>"No, it's not your fault. It was mine. He left." He swiped at<br>his eyes again. "Jesus, I wish I could stop fucking crying. So gay,  
>right?"<br>Hunter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself,  
>Nick."<br>SECRET 185  
>Nick froze. Until Hunter touched him, he hadn't realized<br>how much he'd expected this revelation to bring about nothing  
>but revulsion.<br>In a flash, a memory came to him. He was standing at the  
>stove with his mother, learning how to make macaroni and<br>cheese. He had to be eleven or so. She'd put an arm around him  
>and kissed him on the top of the head.<br>He'd leaned into the contact, and she'd said, "You're the only  
>one who still lets me do that. My gentle boy."<br>He'd let her do it still, if he could. He missed her touch more  
>than anything.<br>She wouldn't have judged him. He knew. He could have  
>told her.<br>He rubbed his hands down his face before his eyes could get  
>ready for a fresh round.<br>"Are you going to tell Gabriel?" he asked.  
>"No," said Hunter. His voice changed and he looked over.<br>"Do you want me to?"  
>Well, that was a loaded question.<br>Nick finally shook his head. "No. You'd seriously keep it a  
>secret?" he said skeptically. "He's your best friend."<br>"I know a lot about keeping secrets," Hunter said. "And this  
>one isn't mine to tell. But I know it's going to tear you up until<br>you let it go."  
>Nick knew that. This secret already was tearing him up.<br>A key pressed into the front door, and Nick jumped. He  
>knew—knew—it was his twin brother. He quickly wiped his<br>eyes on his sleeve and took a quick gulp of coffee. He'd run for  
>his room, but he'd never make it up the stairs before Gabriel<br>came in the house.  
>With a quick flash of fury, he wanted to tell him. He wanted<br>to fling the truth in Gabriel's face. He wanted to pick a fight, to  
>let this rage and fear and pain pour into something.<br>Then Gabriel was in the foyer and Nick couldn't breathe.  
>Gabriel took one look at them and shook his head before<br>pushing between them to head upstairs. He smacked Hunter on  
>186 Brigid Kemmerer<br>the back of the head. "Leave my brother alone, jackass. He's already  
>got enough freaks pining after him."<br>It was a miracle Nick didn't shatter the mug between his  
>hands.<br>Hunter didn't move until Gabriel disappeared into the bathroom.  
>Then he said softly, "Look, I get it. Why you don't want<br>to tell him."  
>Nick had to put the mug down or he was going to spill coffee<br>everywhere. "Really? You sure? He's so subtle."  
>"He doesn't understand—"<br>"No, but I do. He thinks gay guys are creepy freaks. Got it."  
>Nick didn't want to stay here. He was almost shaking with rage.<br>He couldn't imagine sleeping under the same roof as his brother.  
>But he had nowhere to go.<br>Hunter took a breath. "He doesn't think you are a creepy  
>freak, Nick. I think you should give him a chance."<br>"Fuck him. He doesn't deserve a chance."  
>"Wow." Hunter pushed the hair back from his face. "All<br>right. Your secret, your call." He stood.  
>"Hey," Nick said, losing some of the rage. "Thanks. It—it<br>means a lot."  
>"No problem." Hunter paused and leaned against the bannister.<br>"You're wrong, by the way."  
>"I'm wrong?"<br>"I'm not his best friend, Nick. You are."


	20. Chapter 20

Quinn studied herself in Tyler's bathroom mirror. Steam  
>clouded the glass, but she could make out her face, her<br>neck, and the edge of the towel wrapped around her body. A  
>shadowed bruise remained across her cheek, but the swelling<br>was gone, along with her headache.  
>She was glad for the lingering bruise. She didn't want to forget<br>her mother's voice or the way she'd swung that trophy.  
>Or the things she'd said.<br>Whore. You ruin everything.  
>The worst part was, Quinn believed her mother. Hell, she had<br>proof. She dated guy after guy who was perfectly content to  
>sleep with her and shell out the bucks for a movie or a dinner,<br>but when she needed a friend? Yeah, busy. Or the dance team at  
>school, who'd kicked her to the curb for a bad attitude. Well,<br>who could blame her, with those bitchy girls. Attitude was just a  
>way to endure it all.<br>Maybe that was her fault, after all. Maybe she had ruined it.  
>But then Nick. And Becca. No one wanted her. No one<br>needed her. Even when she was needed—like for Adam's dance  
>audition—she couldn't get it together to show up with any regularity.<br>Clearly her fault.  
>Besides, it wasn't like Adam had asked what was wrong<br>when she'd texted him earlier. He'd almost brushed her off like  
>he'd expected her to space out. Suddenly furious, Quinn picked<br>up her phone to read the text again.  
>No worries, he'd said. Let me know when you can meet<br>again.  
>Okay, maybe she was reading negativity into that. He didn't<br>know what was going on. Maybe she should have texted something  
>like, Sorry. My room was turned into a crack den. Catch<br>you tomorrow maybe?  
>Yeah, and then what would have happened? He probably<br>wouldn't have believed her.  
>Quinn remembered this one time her mom had thrown a<br>knife at her head. Two years ago, the first week of freshman  
>year. They'd been screaming about something inconsequential—<br>as usual—and her mother had grabbed a steak knife from the  
>block on the counter and flung it at her.<br>Quinn had run to Becca's, using the key her best friend's mom  
>had provided, sitting shaking in a kitchen chair until Becca came<br>home.  
>Becca had thought she was being overdramatic. "A knife,"<br>she'd said, her voice ringing with skepticism. "Come on,  
>Quinn."<br>And Quinn had been worried she'd alienate the only friend  
>she had, so she'd recanted her story.<br>Becca never brought it up again.  
>Admittedly, it was rarely that bad back in those days. Her<br>mom had been normal enough, coming to Quinn's school events  
>on occasion, mingling with other parents like she didn't come<br>home and knock back a bottle of Jack Daniel's every other  
>night.<br>Then their lives had started a downward spiral.  
>Or continued down it, depending on your perspective.<br>A knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Quinn jumped.  
>Tyler spoke from the other side. "You okay in there?"<br>"I'm a girl. Takes a while." But Quinn hurriedly started  
>pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head. She<br>untied the towel wrapped around her body and threw it over  
>the shower rod.<br>SECRET 189  
>"I'm not trying to rush you," he said. "Just checking."<br>Quinn glanced at her folded clothes waiting by the sink: the  
>old dance sweats she usually slept in, plus a flimsy T-shirt that<br>would leave a few inches of midriff bare.  
>She glanced at her naked body in the mirror. The other dance<br>girls were full of angles. Graceful angles, but angles nonetheless:  
>a hip bone here, a sharp edge of shoulder there, a jawline practically<br>cut from marble.  
>Quinn's body was all sloping lines and curves.<br>She squeezed her eyes shut. She had a new worry: keeping  
>Tyler interested so she had a place to sleep.<br>He'd been quiet in the truck, but it was an anxious sort of  
>quiet. A nervous tension had clung to the vehicle, worrying her<br>that any minute he'd pull over and demand that she get out.  
>"You're like them," she'd whispered finally, terrified that<br>he'd snap and demand that she keep his secret.  
>"Like them?" he'd said flatly.<br>She'd had to lick her lips. "A full Elemental."  
>But he hadn't snapped. He'd just nodded.<br>That same tension was hanging around his apartment now.  
>What would he do, now that she knew? It seemed like enough<br>of a reason to put her out. Quinn pulled on the T-shirt and a  
>pair of lace panties, then slapped a coy smile on her face and<br>strolled out the door.  
>It sounded like all the air left Tyler's lungs at once. Quinn<br>kept walking, picked up a copy of Maxim magazine on her way  
>to the couch, then sprawled suggestively against the cushions.<br>She flipped open to the middle and didn't look at him.  
>She could practically hear his brain cells reorganizing to head<br>south.  
>But then her sweatpants hit her in the chest, landing on the<br>magazine. "Put some pants on," he said.  
>She glanced at him. "You don't really want me to."<br>He came and sat in the chair in front of her. He kept his eyes  
>level with hers. "If I hadn't just watched your mom lose her shit,<br>you're right. I wouldn't want you to. I don't know what you think  
>you're doing, but I'm not going to play. Put some pants on."<br>190 Brigid Kemmerer  
>She pouted. "Make me."<br>He sighed. "Fine. The hell with it. Sit around half naked."  
>She pushed the magazine and the pants to the side and<br>crawled into the chair with him, straddling his lap like she'd  
>done the night before.<br>Tonight, however, his jaw was set, and he didn't make a move  
>to touch her.<br>But when she leaned in, pressing her chest against his, he  
>caught her waist, holding her at a slight distance.<br>"What do you think?" he said. "That if you don't sleep with  
>me, I'm going to put you out on the street?"<br>Well, that was honest. Anger flared, and Quinn started to  
>climb off his lap.<br>Tyler's hands tightened on her waist. She struggled, but he  
>held fast. "Why is it that you get to screw with me, but when I<br>call you on it, you get all indignant?"  
>Honestly, because arguing was easier than thinking.<br>"Let me go," she said.  
>"No way. Not until you tell me what's rolling around in that<br>head of yours."  
>She met his eyes and made her expression hard. "Let me go<br>or I'll tell Nick and his brothers what you can do."  
>Well, that broke his control. His face turned furious and he<br>shoved her onto the couch roughly, leaving her there and storming  
>into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a creak,<br>and he slammed it shut hard enough to make the contents rattle.  
>"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he<br>snapped, using an opener to jerk the cap off a bottle of beer.  
>"Don't you get it? This isn't a game."<br>"Yeah, I get it," she fired back. "You're all gung ho for someone  
>to kill my friends, when you're guilty of the same thing."<br>"I'm not guilty of anything!" he yelled. "I never hurt anyone  
>with this! They did."<br>Quinn sucked back into the couch, holding her breath. His  
>anger was frightening, reminding her of that first night behind<br>the 7-Eleven, when he'd burned her arm and demanded answers.  
>SECRET 191<br>He wasn't done yelling. "I risk myself for you, and you're  
>going to turn it around and threaten me? Are you fucking kidding<br>me? Do you understand that the Guide could be watching?  
>That what I did was enough to earn a bullet to the head?" He<br>took a long drink and slammed his beer onto the counter. "God  
>damn it."<br>Quinn wished she could make herself invisible. She hugged  
>her knees to her chest and wished she'd put the pants on. She<br>felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.  
>She was ready for him to stride across the apartment and<br>shake her or slug her or physically shove her out the door. But  
>he just stood there and took another long drink.<br>After a minute, he looked back at her. His voice was rough,  
>but not aggressive. "Nice job, getting the conversation off of<br>you." He paused, and his expression turned resigned. "Tell the  
>Merricks whatever you want. I know what I did—what I am. I<br>can't undo it."  
>Quinn kept her breathing shallow, scared to move.<br>As usual with Tyler, she wasn't sure whether he was a good  
>guy or a bad guy. He'd helped her—more than once, and at risk<br>to himself. What was she going to do—tell Nick about Tyler's  
>secret so these mysterious killers could kill more people? Turn<br>Tyler in for saving her life?  
>But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he<br>struggled with himself. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy,  
>right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?<br>I never hurt anyone with this.  
>Did he really believe that? He'd burned her arm. He'd brutalized<br>the Merricks—she knew that from Nick. Hell, he'd gone  
>after Becca more than once.<br>Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died?  
>That because he hadn't killed anyone, he somehow got a free<br>pass?  
>Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the<br>kitchen.  
>"I'll keep your secret," she said quietly. "You were right. I<br>was angry—I didn't want—I don't—"  
>192 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Then her mother's anger and violence overtook her, and  
>Quinn started crying.<br>Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair.  
>"What a crazy, fucked-up night."<br>She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder.  
>"Tell me about it." She hesitated. "Do you really think there's a<br>Guide in town?"  
>He took a long breath. "There have been a lot of fires. I'd be<br>more surprised if there's not a Guide in town."  
>"And they'd kill you for saving me?"<br>"I don't know. I don't know." He paused. "Did Merrick ever  
>tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?"<br>She nodded against his chest. "Some of it. A girl named  
>Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to<br>start a war."  
>Tyler drew back to look at her. "Calla Dean? I don't know<br>her. Her family wasn't part of the original deal with the Merricks."  
>Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. "You might<br>not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said  
>they don't know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven't<br>been any further arson attacks, so . . ."  
>She drifted into silence, letting the rest remain unsaid. Calla<br>might not be dead, but she hadn't made a reappearance in town.  
>Maybe she'd moved on to start her war somewhere else.<br>Tyler held her for the longest time, but when he finally spoke,  
>his voice was careful. "I know you don't want to talk about it,<br>but your mother—"  
>Quinn started to pull away. "You're right. I don't want to<br>talk about it."  
>"Are you going to hide here forever?"<br>His voice was gentle, but it made her cry again. "I don't  
>know what to do. Would they arrest her? What would happen<br>to me and Jordan?"  
>"I don't know. But . . ." He paused. "She could have really<br>hurt you, Quinn. Jesus, she did really hurt you. If she'd hit you  
>a second time—"<br>SECRET 193  
>"I'm not calling the cops. I'm not. If you want me to leave,<br>fine. But I'm not—"  
>"Shh, take it easy. I'm not telling you to leave."<br>"I just need a few days, okay? Let it blow over."  
>Tyler stiffened. "You want to go back there?"<br>"She's not always like that. If Jake is gone, maybe it won't be  
>so bad."<br>Tyler sighed.  
>"Please?" she begged. Then she winced. This reminded her of<br>the night she'd been in Nick's truck, begging him for a place to  
>sleep, too.<br>"Okay," Tyler finally said. "We can give it a few days."  
>She turned her face up and kissed him.<br>Tyler pulled back. "Quinn. Stop."  
>She froze, then jerked away from him. "Forget it," she cried,<br>feeling fresh tears on her cheeks. She punched him in the chest.  
>"Forget it. I don't need charity from—"<br>He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her back. The  
>motion was so quick, so rough, that she almost cried out. It put<br>her right against his chest, staring up into his eyes. "What do  
>you want?" he said. "Is this how every guy treats you, like you<br>have to pay to play? Tell me, Quinn."  
>"Didn't you hear her?" she said. "This is all I'm good for."<br>"It's not," he whispered. "I promise you, it's not."  
>"No one wants me. I can't even make someone want me."<br>He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers.  
>"You poor, mixed-up girl."<br>"Fuck you. If you don't want me, then let me go."  
>"You're funny. You have no idea how hard it was to act honorably<br>when you were parading around here in your underwear."  
>She snorted. "Like you know how to act honorably."<br>He froze, then released her. He grabbed the beer from the  
>counter and headed back to the living room. "Come on," he<br>said. "Let's watch a movie. Grab some snacks if you want."  
>Quinn stared at his retreating back. "A movie? That's it?"<br>"That's it."  
>194 Brigid Kemmerer<br>She couldn't keep up with his rapidly shifting emotions, but  
>maybe he felt exactly the same about her. He was already flipping<br>on the television, searching through the pay-per-view listings.  
>"What do you feel like?" he said.<br>"Slasher flick," she said.  
>He rolled his eyes and settled on a romantic comedy.<br>Quinn groaned. "These are cheesy."  
>"Sweetheart, I think you're overdue for something cheesy."<br>She hesitated by the couch, but he opened his arms like he'd  
>done on the porch, and she snuggled into the warmth of his<br>body, inhaling the scent of him.  
>Later, when she was almost asleep on his chest, she murmured,<br>"I'll keep your secret."  
>"You don't need to." He stroked a hand through her hair—<br>the most intimate thing he'd done all night. "You keep enough  
>secrets. I'm definitely not asking you to keep mine."<p> 


	21. Chapter 21

Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He  
>probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible.<br>He couldn't think straight. He had no idea what he  
>was writing on the paper.<br>And he didn't care.  
>His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn't<br>responding to his texts. Well, he'd responded to one this morning,  
>when Nick finally begged him to confirm he'd got home all<br>right.  
>I'm home.<br>And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence.  
>Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing<br>not to respond.  
>Quinn was no better. He'd tracked her down in the hall this<br>morning, but she'd turned her back on him and said she'd talk  
>to him later.<br>But not before he'd caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her  
>cheek.<br>What. The. Hell.  
>He'd tried to catch up to her, but she'd disappeared into a<br>classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his  
>face.<br>And of course texts demanding to know what had happened  
>had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.<br>He didn't want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting  
>something and Gabriel being an asshole and Hunter knowing<br>everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped  
>with work, and he hadn't resumed the prying.<br>Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He  
>didn't have a chance.<br>He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.  
>Yeah, right.<br>Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when  
>Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing<br>it facedown on the desk blotter.  
>Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between<br>his shoulder blades.  
>He had never failed a test. Ever.<br>And now he'd done it twice.  
>He couldn't go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat<br>anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.  
>While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam<br>until he found the picture he'd sent himself.  
>His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he'd<br>been such an idiot.  
>His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.<br>Not Adam. Michael.  
>I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?<br>Nick sighed.  
>But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.<br>Sure.  
>SECRET 197<br>By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making  
>him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in<br>seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers  
>responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to<br>focus, that they expected more.  
>Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word gay<br>or fag had his head whipping around.  
>Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe<br>they're all talking about me.  
>He found himself wishing he sat in the back of every room,<br>instead of the front.  
>No, he found himself wishing he'd cut school.<br>At the final bell, he stormed out the side door. He didn't want  
>to ride home with his brothers. He didn't want to work a job<br>with Michael.  
>Cars were lined up illegally in the fire lane, parents who<br>couldn't be bothered to sit through the heavier traffic on the  
>other side of school. But trees lined the grounds beyond those<br>vehicles, dense woods that led the way home. Nick headed for  
>the crosswalk. He'd cut through the woods and clear his head.<br>Maybe after three miles of fresh air, he could get it together to  
>spend a few hours slinging pavestone or planting bushes or<br>whatever Michael needed help with.  
>Heavy clouds swarmed the sky, trapping cold air near the<br>ground. Or maybe he was doing that. He cast his senses far,  
>feeding power into his element. Reckless and dangerous, but he<br>didn't care. Wind whipped through his hair, feeding on his temper  
>to blow loose debris along the curb. A notebook flipped<br>open to spill papers across the quad. Girls shrieked and scurried  
>to catch them.<br>Rain spit at his face, and Nick pulled up the hood of his  
>sweatshirt. It kept out the cold and his classmates, especially<br>since not too many students came out this side of the building.  
>The hoodie didn't keep out sound, however. A car door<br>slammed; then a voice called out as he slid between two sedans.  
>"Windy out, huh, douche bag?"<br>The air brought the words right to him. Nick stopped and  
>198 Brigid Kemmerer<br>lowered the hood. Tyler stood by the curb, two cars up, leaning  
>against his truck.<br>What was he doing here? Nick gritted his teeth and balled his  
>hands into fists.<br>He hated that his first thought was to wish Gabriel was here.  
>Especially when Tyler moved away from his truck to approach<br>him.  
>Thunder rumbled through the sky overhead. Wind blasted<br>Nick in the face and pulled at his clothes. He called for more,  
>asking his element to rip Tyler's face clean off.<br>Nick knew better than to fight him physically. Tyler fought  
>dirty enough to give Gabriel a run for his money. Nick couldn't<br>suffocate him, either, not with his senses so scattered. The wind  
>pulled his power in too many directions. Thunder cracked and<br>rolled again.  
>He begged for cold, and the next blast of wind was downright<br>arctic.  
>"Go away, Tyler," he said, keeping his voice low. "You're not<br>supposed to be here."  
>Tyler laughed in his face. "I'm not allowed to pick up a girl?"<br>Nick froze. Was Tyler here for Quinn?  
>Then Nick thought of that second bruise on Quinn's cheek,<br>and he started forward. Quinn was exactly the type of girl to  
>fall in with someone like Tyler, someone who'd make promises<br>to take care of her, but would then turn around and backhand  
>her across the face. He thought of Adam's history, and fury<br>made his voice tight. "You leave her alone. She has enough  
>problems without you screwing around with her."<br>Tyler shoved him back. "Yeah, and what do you know  
>about it?"<br>"I've seen enough. You keep your hands off her."  
>"Jealous?" sneered Tyler. "That's funny." Then he hit Nick in<br>the chest again, hard enough to knock him back, toward the  
>woods.<br>Nick shoved him back, feeling his wind pick up fistfuls of  
>twigs and rocks to pelt them at Tyler.<br>Bonus: twigs and rocks pelted Tyler's truck, too.  
>SECRET 199<br>Nick had the satisfaction of seeing Tyler fall back a step, an  
>arm raised to protect his eyes. A rock hit his face and drew<br>blood. Then a small branch hit his upraised arm with enough  
>force to tear his shirt—and the skin below it. Nick caught the<br>scent of blood on the wind.  
>Tyler surged forward to grab Nick's arm. "Cold out. Maybe I<br>should light something on fire."  
>Nick swung a fist and called for stronger wind, but Tyler<br>ducked and caught his wrist. They struggled, but Tyler had him  
>by a good thirty pounds. He twisted Nick's arm until Nick<br>thought his elbow might give out.  
>More thunder, more wind. Trees began to sway.<br>Tyler applied more pressure. "Aw," he said. "Is that  
>painful?"<br>Yeah. It was.  
>"Fuck you," Nick gasped. He remembered a time when he<br>was younger, when Tyler had trapped him after gym class, when  
>he'd pinned him much like this to let Seth Ramsey beat the shit<br>out of him.  
>God, he hated this guy. He hated his own fear more.<br>Wind tore between them, stinging Nick's cheeks, pelting him  
>with the same debris he was using to attack Tyler. But then his<br>gusts began to pull into a spiral, almost against his will. The  
>clouds overhead shifted. In a minute, he'd have a tornado. His<br>power was always like this—no middle ground. Lively breeze  
>one moment, massively destructive weather event the next.<br>At least Gabriel's fire needed something to burn. Air was  
>everywhere.<br>He needed to rein this in before he leveled the school.  
>Tyler smiled. "Guess what, douchebag? You don't get to play<br>like that anymore." He tightened his grip on Nick's wrist.  
>And then flame curled from under his hand.<br>Fire bit through fabric to find skin, and Nick yelled, fighting  
>like mad. His sweatshirt was on fire, a flame trapped beneath<br>Tyler's fingers. Nothing anyone else could see. The burn clouded  
>his senses, eating into his arm like something alive.<br>200 Brigid Kemmerer  
>He redoubled his struggles, wishing someone would see and<br>help. But while a few kids were out here, they glanced at the  
>fight and kept walking. No one said anything. No one took any<br>action.  
>Hell, they probably thought he was Gabriel. And Gabriel<br>never needed help.  
>The wind swirled harder. Nick tried to bite back the pain, focusing<br>all his energy into keeping a tornado from forming. The  
>atmosphere fought him, trying to form a funnel. His element enjoyed<br>the rage in the air, pulling power from his pain and anger.  
>Tyler shook him a little, sending agony shooting through his<br>elbow. It looked like it was snowing. Or maybe those were stars  
>shooting through his vision.<br>"Turning you on?" said Tyler, his voice low and sinister.  
>"Quinn said you were into guys."<br>If anything could have broken through the pain in his arm,  
>that was it.<br>Nick couldn't think, unsure which hurt more: the searing  
>heat in his forearm or the raging dismay of betrayal.<br>Quinn. Had. Told. Tyler.  
>He couldn't fight. He couldn't focus. A tornado was going to<br>whip through here and leave a wide path of destruction, probably  
>taking him with it. Then again, Tyler was about to burn him<br>to ash, right here beside the fire lane.  
>But then someone hooked a hand around Tyler's throat, jerking<br>him back hard. Tyler went down harder. Nick stumbled  
>back, losing his footing from the sudden freedom.<br>His first thought had been Hunter. Or Gabriel.  
>But Tyler was on the ground and Michael stood over him. He<br>looked down at Tyler like he wanted to kick him in the face, but  
>he cut a quick glance at Nick. "You all right?"<br>No. He was breathing through his teeth and the wind wouldn't  
>settle. His arm hurt like a bitch. He could smell burning fabric, on<br>top of something sickly sweet that he didn't want to identify. Nick  
>fought his way out of his sweatshirt.<br>Mistake. He did it fast, and it took skin with it. The wound  
>SECRET 201<br>wasn't big, but Nick felt the skin separate and peel away. Every  
>nerve went with it. He thought he might pass out. Or throw up.<br>Or both.  
>But the air was charged with his power, and it surged into the<br>exposed skin, healing him without thought, stealing some of the  
>pain immediately. Nick sucked a breath through his teeth and<br>shivered. The weather no longer seemed centered on destruction,  
>but trees creaked and groaned as the wind battered them.<br>Michael looked back at Tyler. "Keep your hands off my  
>brothers."<br>Tyler got to his feet and spit at him. "Fuck you, Merrick. He  
>started it."<br>"Nick." Michael glanced at him. "Get in the truck."  
>Nick looked at the fire lane. There was Michael's truck,<br>about six cars back. Had Michael been here the whole time?  
>Had he heard what Tyler said?<br>"Go," said Michael. "He won't follow you."  
>Like Nick was six years old being chased down by a bully.<br>But what could he do? He clutched his aching arm to his chest  
>and walked.<br>Tyler didn't help matters by calling after him. "Yeah, it's a  
>good thing big brother showed up, huh, Nicky?"<br>Nicky. He somehow made it an insult.  
>Nick slammed the cab door and ran a hand through his hair.<br>The frigid wind had cleared the quad, whipping between vehicles  
>to make the truck rock. The open wounds on his arm had<br>closed, turning to nothing more than soft scabs.  
>Michael was five seconds behind him. He slammed the door,<br>then shoved a key into the ignition and got the heat running.  
>Nick hadn't realized his breath was fogging up all the glass.<br>He couldn't even see what had happened to Tyler. But Michael  
>hadn't been out there long enough to have done any damage.<br>"You didn't fight him?" Nick said.  
>"He won't fight me." Without any more explanation than<br>that, Michael put the truck in gear, but kept his foot on the  
>brake. "Let me see your arm."<br>"It's okay. I'm okay." Nick held it up, but he didn't care  
>202 Brigid Kemmerer<br>about his arm now. His thoughts felt like the debris scattered all  
>over the quad from the wind. Had Michael heard? Had he<br>heard?  
>But Michael said, "What made him come after you?"<br>Nick had no idea. He wished he could get his thoughts to  
>focus. What had Quinn told Tyler? Why? How could she—why<br>would she—?  
>"Nick?"<br>He shook his head. "I don't know—Tyler's never done that  
>before. With the fire." He wished Gabriel weren't being such a<br>dick—Nick could ask him how much power that would take.  
>Tyler wasn't supposed to be very strong, but something so focused<br>would require a lot of control, right?  
>You don't get to play like that anymore.<br>What was Tyler telling him? What had he said?  
>She has enough problems without you screwing with her.<br>Then Tyler's sneering, What do you know about it?  
>What did Tyler know? What was Quinn telling him?<br>She'd clearly given up his secret. What did that mean?  
>The windshield cleared in patches. Michael pulled out of his<br>space. "Has he been hassling you?"  
>"No. Not really." Nick paused. "Why won't he fight you?"<br>"Because he genuinely believes I killed his sister, and he's  
>afraid I'll do the same to him." Michael glanced over. "I'm serious,<br>Nick. What's going on?"  
>His older brother sounded pissed—but only at Tyler. Not like<br>he'd learned anything new and shocking. In a way, it was disappointing.  
>Nick shook his head and looked out the window.<br>"Nothing. What were you doing there?"  
>"I came to pick you up. I saw the guys getting into the car<br>and you weren't with them. Gabriel said you were PMS-ing,  
>which I took to mean you were walking home."<br>Nick clenched his jaw and glared out the window. Trees  
>along Old Mill Road flew by. Wind was still blowing leaves in<br>every direction, matching his mood.  
>Then he whipped his head back around. "Why were you<br>picking me up?"  
>SECRET 203<br>"What's with all the suspicion? Because I'd like to get this job  
>done before the rain starts."<br>Oh. Of course. Nick settled back into the seat. His sweatshirt  
>was destroyed, and he could do with a change of clothes, but<br>the last thing he wanted to do was face his brothers. "Do you  
>have an extra pullover in here?"<br>"You don't want me to swing by the house?"  
>"No."<br>Michael reached between the seats and flung a fleece half-zip  
>at him. It smelled vaguely of topsoil and mulch, but not in a bad<br>way. Nick pulled it over his head.  
>"Hungry?" said Michael.<br>Nick shook his head. He hadn't eaten lunch, either, but the  
>last thing he wanted was food.<br>They drove in silence for the longest time. Nick leaned his  
>head against the window and wondered what it would be like to<br>lie down and sleep forever.  
>When Michael spoke, his voice was quiet. "You want to talk<br>about what's up at school?"  
>That familiar tension dug its teeth into Nick's neck. "Nothing<br>is going on at school."  
>"Your physics teacher called and said you failed a test."<br>Nick swore. "Great."  
>"He said you were distracted. He asked if something was<br>going on at home. Asked if he could help."  
>"You don't have to do this, Mike. I'm fine. Things at home<br>are fine. It's one test. He shouldn't have called you."  
>Michael glanced over. "He said he'd told you about a precollege<br>program he'd like to nominate you for, but you brushed it  
>off. I thought you were all gung ho for college."<br>"I don't—I don't know what I want. Can you just leave it?  
>It's one test. I don't know why he's blowing it out of proportion."<br>"I don't think he's worried about the test, Nick. And I'm  
>pretty sure you know I'm not, either." He paused. "You've been<br>on edge at home, too. I know you said things are fine with  
>Quinn. Are they really?"<br>204 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Nick stared out the window and set his jaw. "Yeah."<br>"I know you've been covering for your brothers a lot. I didn't  
>mean to load more on you. You should have said something.<br>You know you can say no, right?"  
>Sure. And then Mike would lose a job and money would be<br>tighter than it already was. "I'm fine. Really."  
>"All right. If you're sure."<br>"I'm sure."  
>Then Michael shut up and they drove. Nick kept his eyes on<br>the windshield.  
>That just gave him time to think.<br>After a minute, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and  
>shot off a text to Quinn.<br>wtf. Why did you tell Tyler?  
>He didn't expect a response, so he was shocked to get one almost<br>immediately.  
>Wtf. Why did you ATTACK Tyler? Are you crazy?!<br>She thought he'd attacked Tyler? Was she crazy?  
>Nick wanted to punch something. Hell, it worked for<br>Gabriel. And Tyler, clearly.  
>It made him think of how he'd treated Adam last night.<br>Or of Adam's words: Do you ever think that this Tyler guy  
>thinks maybe you are bad for Quinn?<br>What had Tyler just said? He started this.  
>Had Nick started this? He didn't think he had. He'd choked<br>Tyler in his driveway, but that was after Tyler swung a fist.  
>Right? He couldn't remember. Maybe not, but what had<br>Tyler done to him over the last five years? What was he doing to  
>Quinn?<br>Nick's thoughts kept veering back to Adam. To Matt, the guy  
>who'd used Adam like a punching bag. How hard had Nick hit<br>him? He couldn't remember.  
>It felt like something he should remember.<br>SECRET 205  
>When you wake up hating yourself, I don't want you taking<br>it out on me.  
>Nick had panicked. Adam had to know that. He would never<br>do what that other guy had done.  
>But . . . had he already? Just on a smaller scale?<br>Michael hit the turn signal, and Nick looked up. They were  
>turning off Generals Highway and pulling into the nearly empty<br>parking lot of Famous Dave's.  
>"Did you miss a turn?" he said.<br>"No." Michael parked the truck. "In case you hadn't noticed,  
>Nick, it's like thirty degrees in here, and I'm blasting the<br>heater."  
>His breath was fogging. "Oh. Sorry. I'll stop. Just—drive. It's<br>fine."  
>But Michael unbuckled his seat belt and climbed down from<br>the cab.  
>Nick stared at him.<br>"Come on," said Michael. "You want to get some ribs?"  
>"You don't have to do this."<br>"Wrong. If I don't eat something, I'm going to kill someone."  
>"What about the job?"<br>Michael looked at the sky. "Looks like I won't be able to get  
>there before the storm." His eyes snapped back to Nick. "It's<br>called a breather, little brother. Take it."


	22. Chapter 22

Once they were sitting there with menus, Nick didn't even  
>bother reading his. When the waitress came around, he ordered<br>a soda and handed her the folded cardboard.  
>Michael ordered enough food to feed an army.<br>"You're so fidgety," Michael said.  
>"I don't know what we're doing here. We can't afford to<br>blow off a job."  
>"First of all, I'm not blowing it off. I'll pick it up over the week -<br>end. Second, what do you know about what we can afford?"  
>Nick gave him a look. "I do the bookkeeping."<br>"For the business. Not for the family."  
>"What's the difference?"<br>Michael laughed. "A lot. If we only had the business to live  
>on, I'd be worried."<br>"We don't?"  
>"No." His brother frowned. "Have you been worried about<br>that?"  
>"About how we were going to get through the winter?<br>Yeah."  
>Michael winced. "Look, we'll be okay through the winter.<br>Mom and Dad had life insurance, and there's not a lot left, but  
>there's some. I try not to touch it, because I never know when<br>we'll have a real emergency, but it's more than enough to fill in  
>the cracks. Besides, Dad always said to have three months in<br>savings as a reserve, so I've got that, too."  
>Nick stared at him.<br>"What?" said Michael.  
>"Nothing." Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. For months,<br>he'd worried about the finances, had felt a personal obligation  
>to make sure the business brought in as much cash as possible.<br>He'd seen the bottom line of the business creep closer and closer  
>toward the red as they took bigger jobs and needed more supplies.<br>He'd worried about college and leaving his brothers without  
>help.<br>He'd had no idea that Michael had a safety net.  
>"I wish you'd said something," said Michael.<br>"I didn't want to stress you out."  
>"Please. That's like a constant state of being."<br>The waitress brought their drinks, followed by the basket of  
>onion rings and the steamed shrimp that Michael had ordered<br>for appetizers.  
>Nick stared at the food and realized he was starving.<br>"Go ahead," said Michael. "I knew you'd change your mind  
>once it was in front of you."<br>Nick grabbed a shrimp and started peeling. It felt better to  
>have something to do with his hands. At least he couldn't check<br>his phone every ten seconds.  
>"Sometimes I forget," Michael said slowly while peeling his<br>own shrimp, "that you're the same age as Gabriel, and not the  
>same age as me."<br>"You mean, aside from the fact that we're identical and all?"  
>Michael gave him a rueful look. "No, I mean sometimes I<br>forget that you're still just as much a kid as he is."  
>Nick peeled another shrimp and didn't say anything to that.<br>"That's not an insult," said Michael.  
>"Oh. Okay."<br>"Actually . . ." began Michael—but he stopped there. He ran  
>a hand across his newly short hair. Gabriel had asked him when<br>he was shipping out, but Nick liked it. It made Michael look  
>older, more serious and less angry.<br>208 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Nick hadn't said so. Stupidly, he felt like any acknowledgment<br>of a guy's looks would show his hand.  
>He kept his eyes on his food. "Actually what?"<br>"Sometimes I forget to pay attention."  
>"Attention to what?"<br>"To you. I think I've got a pretty good handle on Chris and  
>Gabriel. I know when they're veering off the rails. You're a little<br>more challenging."  
>Nick met his eyes. "I'm all right, Michael. I'll work it out."<br>Michael picked up an onion ring. "See, that's why you're  
>tough to crack. Even keeled, nothing wrong. I'd almost buy it if<br>I hadn't frozen my ass off on the drive here."  
>"I was just pissed at Tyler."<br>"Yeah, and who else?"  
>"I really don't feel like sitting through an interrogation."<br>Michael shrugged. "I'm not interrogating you. Talk or not."  
>"Not."<br>So they ate in silence. When the waitress brought platters of  
>ribs, Michael thanked her, but Nick remained silent.<br>He wished Michael had pushed. Did everyone think he had it  
>all together? He felt like his life was a hot mess of lies and secrets<br>and betrayals.  
>Quinn.<br>His fury had faded, but now he felt bewildered. Why had she  
>told Tyler? Why? Why was she spending time with him? Was he<br>the one who'd hit her in the face?  
>Or was Nick misreading everything?<br>He used his fork to pull a new section of ribs apart and kept  
>his eyes on his plate. "Will you tell me what really happened<br>with Tyler and Emily, that day at the quarry?"  
>They'd been silent for at least fifteen minutes, and Michael<br>set his food down and wiped his hands. His voice was soft, but  
>not empty. "You know what happened, Nick."<br>"I know she—" He stopped and cleared his throat. He knew  
>she'd died. He knew what had happened after. Not the details of<br>before. Suddenly this felt cruel, making his brother relive it.  
>"Never mind."<br>SECRET 209  
>"No, I'll tell you." Michael hesitated. "She worked the<br>counter at that sports place on Mountain Road. I always used  
>the batting cages. Remember, I used to take you guys there?"<br>Nick did remember. He hadn't thought about it for years, but  
>he remembered learning how to hold a bat, how to swing. It<br>was one of the few sports he'd played better than Gabriel. He  
>didn't like playing baseball, not really, but he'd liked swinging<br>the bat in those cages. He didn't recognize it then, but he knew  
>now: the air had told him everything. The speed of the ball,<br>when to swing.  
>"She hated me," Michael continued. "At least at first. She<br>tried to chase me out of there—even had her parents call Mom  
>and Dad and threaten them. I just wanted to play ball. I was<br>pissed. Split a crack down the middle of the parking lot, right in  
>front of her. The deal was brand new. I thought she'd turn me in<br>for sure."  
>"She didn't?"<br>Michael shook his head, then smiled a little sadly. "She didn't.  
>It started . . . something."<br>Nick didn't smile, because he knew how this story ended.  
>"Something."<br>"We never went out or anything. It never got that far. Just . . .  
>there was something there. But then there was her family, too.<br>Tyler was young, but he had a lot of friends. They hid in the back  
>of the truck and jumped me. Tyler put a butane lighter against<br>my face and I couldn't control myself. I almost killed them."  
>"But you didn't."<br>Michael's expression tightened. "No, I didn't, and I've wondered  
>a thousand times how that day would have ended differently<br>if I'd killed them right then."  
>The waitress appeared beside their table. "Can I bring you<br>anything else?"  
>Michael cleared his throat. "I would really, really like a beer.<br>Anything on tap."  
>She hustled off.<br>"First time I haven't gotten carded," said Michael.  
>"Haircut," said Nick.<br>210 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"I owe you." Michael paused and his voice resumed its former<br>gravity. "We ran. Emily and me. We took a trail down to  
>the back side of the quarry. Tyler and his friends chased us. We<br>jumped in the water and swam like hell. She wasn't a strong  
>swimmer, but I knew if we could get near the other kids who<br>were swimming on the far side, they'd have to back off."  
>He shook his head. "They didn't. We made it, but they were<br>right there. I could feel the rocks overhead were loose, but I  
>thought we were okay."<br>He stopped and took a breath. Nick studied him. "Mike—  
>you don't have to tell me this."<br>"It's all right. She—she went back to them. We were there in  
>the water, near the wall, facing off. There were six of them, and<br>Emily was a tiny girl. I think—I think she thought they'd go  
>away and leave me alone if she went with them. She swam toward<br>them before I could stop her, going to Tyler. I remember  
>him looking at me, all victorious, like she'd run from me. I<br>know that wasn't it. She was trying to protect me."  
>He went quiet for so long that Nick wasn't sure he was going<br>to keep talking.  
>"So what happened?"<br>Michael glanced up. "She never got a chance to say anything.  
>The rocks fell. I tried to stop it, but I wasn't strong enough—or<br>maybe I just wasn't fast enough. They hit her and two of the  
>other kids. I went down to get her, and came up with one of<br>them. Same thing again. By the third time I went under, I only  
>found her body. I knew it looked like I'd killed her." He paused.<br>"I ran home. You remember."  
>Nick did remember. "Wow."<br>"Yeah, no kidding."  
>The waitress returned with a glass and set it in front of<br>Michael before rushing off again.  
>Nick had no idea where she was going so fast. The restaurant<br>was deserted. It was barely four. Maybe she'd picked up on the  
>tension.<br>"Tyler blames me," Michael said. "I don't fight him, because  
>I get it. I blame me, too." His eyes narrowed. "But that doesn't<br>SECRET 211  
>mean I'm going to let him beat the crap out of you guys. Seriously,<br>Nick. What's going on with Tyler? Why did you want to  
>know about Emily?"<br>Nick clasped his hands under the table and shook his head.  
>He couldn't talk about Tyler without talking about all of it.<br>"Quinn asked me," he offered. "I didn't know all the details."  
>"Oh, right. Quinn. Your girlfriend."<br>Nick couldn't figure out the note in his voice. Talking didn't  
>seem safe now. He took a sip of his soda.<br>Had Michael heard what Tyler said? Maybe Chris had said  
>something? Hunter?<br>Michael leaned in. "I wish you'd talk to me, Nick." He hesitated,  
>as if choosing his words carefully. "I'm not going to<br>judge you."  
>Nick's eyes snapped to his. His heart pulsed against his rib<br>cage. "What does that mean?"  
>"It means you don't have to go through this alone."<br>He knew. He had to know. How did he know? Nick rubbed  
>his hands over his face, worried his dinner might make a reappearance<br>if he couldn't calm down. The restaurant simultaneously  
>felt too cold and too hot.<br>The waitress came by the table to remove their plates, then  
>left a tiny folder with the check.<br>Michael didn't reach for it. "Look," he said quietly, "I'm not  
>going to say I know what it's like to be in your position."<br>"Lucky you."  
>"You have a choice, Nick, about—"<br>"You think there's a choice here?" Nick almost couldn't  
>speak through the sudden rage in his throat. "You think I would<br>choose this?"  
>"Calm down. I'm trying to talk to you."<br>Nick could barely keep his voice level. He'd been ready for  
>anger and disappointment, but he hadn't expected closedmindedness.<br>He shoved out of the booth. "Fuck you, Michael.  
>I don't want to talk to you."<br>Michael grabbed his wrist. His voice was low and equally  
>angry. "Damn it, Nick, grow up. There's a time limit here. If<br>212 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Quinn is pregnant, you need to get your shit together and talk<br>to someone."  
>Wait.<br>Wait.  
>Wait.<br>Nick turned around, his eyes wide. "You think Quinn is pregnant?"  
>Michael stared back at him. "She's not?"<br>"No. She's not." Nick sat back down.  
>Michael blew out a long breath. "Thank god. That—I just—<br>wow."  
>"Crisis averted, right?" Nick could barely keep the bitterness<br>out of his voice. Of course Michael hadn't guessed right.  
>"Something like that." Michael pulled a credit card out of his<br>wallet and slid it into the folder.  
>Nick couldn't stop the disappointment tightening his chest.<br>As much as he'd hated thinking Michael would be such an idiot  
>as to believe sexuality was a choice, there'd been a measure of<br>relief in not having to tell him.  
>Now they were back to square one. And they were leaving. In<br>half an hour, he'd be at home, feeling more alone than ever.  
>The waitress took the leather folder and zipped away.<br>And Michael just seemed relieved. Quinn wasn't pregnant,  
>nothing else could be wrong. Reliable Nick always had a handle<br>on everything, and wasn't an unplanned pregnancy like the  
>worst thing he could possibly face?<br>Nick didn't want to look at his brother anymore. Being  
>wrong wasn't Michael's fault—but it felt like it. "Why would<br>you think that?" he asked, his voice quiet.  
>"Actually, it was Hannah's guess."<br>"Hmm."  
>Michael centered on him. "It wouldn't have been a bad thing.<br>I just—I didn't want you to think you couldn't tell me."  
>Nick didn't say anything to that.<br>Then the waitress was back and Michael was signing his  
>name, and this little moment was ending.<br>Nick didn't move. He couldn't. He felt like he was standing  
>SECRET 213<br>on the edge of a cliff, looking down at water far below. A short  
>flight through air, with an impact that might kill him.<br>Michael hesitated at the edge of his booth. "You ready?"  
>"No."<br>Say it. Tell him.  
>Two words. He couldn't even get two words out of his<br>mouth.  
>You care more about what other people think than you care<br>about me.  
>Adam had faced a lot worse than this.<br>Nick looked at his older brother, then shoved the empty beer  
>glass toward him. He felt dizzy, like the air was too thin to breathe.<br>His voice came out wispy. "You might want another one."  
>"Why?"<br>"Because you guessed wrong." He laughed shortly. "Way  
>wrong."<br>Michael studied him but didn't say anything.  
>Nick took a breath and forced himself to look up. "Michael.<br>I'm gay."


	23. Chapter 23

Three feet of wooden table stretched between them, but it  
>might as well have been three miles. This moment between<br>words and reaction seemed to stretch into infinity.  
>Nick had leapt off that cliff, and now he was waiting to see<br>what he'd hit at the bottom.  
>Michael eased back into the booth and leaned his forearms<br>on the table. He edged Nick's half-empty soda glass toward  
>him. "Here. You look like you're going to pass out."<br>Nick couldn't move. He worried he would pass out if  
>Michael didn't say something more substantial than that.<br>The waitress came to the table again, obviously noting that  
>they hadn't left. She fidgeted, clearly unsettled by the tension.<br>Or maybe she was cold. Nick tried to get a handle on the  
>temperature in the room.<br>She picked up the folder with the signed receipt. "Did you  
>boys need anything else?"<br>"Coffee," said Michael. "Please."  
>She disappeared, leaving them in silence.<br>Michael cleared his throat. "I don't know how to say this,  
>Nick . . ."<br>It was like his older brother had picked up a spear and begun  
>to shove it through Nick's back. He felt the pain that acutely.<br>But then Michael winced and looked at him. "Would it be  
>weird if I said that's not surprising?"<br>What?  
>What?<br>Nick came out of his seat to reach across the table and punch  
>Michael in the shoulder as hard as he could. "You dick. I<br>thought you were about to throw me out of the house."  
>Now Michael looked like Nick had checked his brain at the<br>door. "Why on earth would I throw you out of the house?"  
>"I don't know! I had no idea how you'd react!"<br>"You want me to punch you? Cause a scene? We could totally  
>put on a show."<br>However Nick had imagined this conversation going, this . . .  
>this wasn't it.<br>Some of the tension slipped from his shoulders. Nick took a  
>long breath and blew it out through his teeth.<br>"How long have you been carrying that around?" said  
>Michael.<br>"I don't know." Now Nick felt dizzy for an entirely different  
>reason. He gave a choked laugh. "I don't—a long time." Then he<br>stopped reeling and looked at his brother. "Why not surprising?"  
>The waitress chose that exact moment to bring their coffee.<br>Nick was glad for the distraction, though. It gave him something  
>else to look at, something new to do with his hands.<br>When she was gone, Michael said, "It's difficult to explain.  
>Nothing I would have put my finger on, you know?" He paused,<br>then stirred his coffee. Pointless, since he drank it black—but  
>maybe he needed a minor distraction, too.<br>"Little things," he said. "Meaningless things. You'd go out  
>with girls, but you never really talked about them. You're not<br>aggressive. You're not . . . Jesus, Nick, I don't know. I've never  
>thought, gee, Nick might be gay, but when you said it, it was<br>like the last piece of a puzzle, if that makes any sense."  
>"It makes sense," Nick said. He couldn't quite believe that<br>Michael was sitting here dropping a phrase like Nick might be  
>gay without batting an eye.<br>"Am I the last to know, as usual?" Michael said.  
>216 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"No. The first. Sort of."  
>"The first! I should be celebrating." Then he raised an eyebrow.<br>"Sort of?"  
>"Hunter knows."<br>"How'd he take it?"  
>Nick shrugged and wondered if there was a safe answer to that<br>question. Well, you know. Last night, he caught me in bed . . .  
>"Hunter was okay."<br>"Yeah, I can't see him having a problem." Michael paused.  
>"Not Gabriel?"<br>Nick stared into his mug and shook his head.  
>"So that's why you two are fighting."<br>"We're not fighting."  
>"Could've fooled me."<br>Nick gritted his teeth and looked away. "I don't want to talk  
>about him."<br>"Are you afraid of how he'll take it?"  
>"No. Yes. I don't know."<br>Michael didn't say anything for the longest time. After a  
>while, he drained his mug of coffee, then set it back in the<br>saucer.  
>"I remember," Michael said, "when you were babies, Gabriel<br>used to scream his fool head off. All the time. He wouldn't fall  
>asleep at night unless Mom put you in his crib." He smiled. "It<br>got so that any time he'd fuss, I'd just pick you up and put you  
>next to him." His smile turned a little sad. "I still remember the<br>one time Mom caught me doing it. She was fit to be tied.  
>Michael! Do not pick up the babies!"<br>Nick held still. It was rare that Michael would talk about  
>Mom and Dad.<br>He kept talking. "But even when you grew older and got  
>your own beds, we'd always find you in there with him in the<br>morning. Curled up on top of his covers, just sleeping next to  
>him. Mom used to say that you always knew when your brother<br>needed you." He paused. "I used to find you like that after they  
>died."<br>Emotion balled up a fist and struck Nick square in the chest.  
>SECRET 217<br>He tried to breathe around it. He remembered that. He remembered  
>it.<br>"She was wrong," he said, his voice husky. "That was when I  
>needed him."<br>"I don't think so, Nick," Michael said quietly. "If that were  
>true, he'd know your secret."<br>Nick rolled that around in his head for a moment.  
>Michael kept going. "And look, I can't pretend to understand<br>this twin thing you two have. But I know Gabriel knows you.  
>And right now, he knows you're keeping something from him.<br>It's probably tearing him up."  
>Nick wanted to scoff, but he couldn't. He felt it every time he<br>was in the house.  
>Too bad he was such a creepy freak, or he'd do something<br>about it.  
>"Do you think maybe you resent him for not figuring it out on<br>his own?" Michael said. "Or for not pushing you to tell him?"  
>Nick snapped his eyes up. "No."<br>But he'd answered without thinking about it. Now the  
>thought was lodged in his brain and he couldn't stop thinking<br>about it.  
>He could picture Gabriel right now. Sitting with Layne, working<br>through math problems, trying to get his grades up so he  
>could take the firefighter course in the spring.<br>But he was thinking about Nick. Nick could feel it.  
>His cell phone chimed.<br>A message from Gabriel.  
>How long do I have to leave you alone?<br>Nick turned the phone around to show Michael, who rolled  
>his eyes and said, "See?"<br>Nick slid his fingers across the screen to respond.  
>But then he changed his mind, deleted what he'd typed, and<br>shoved the phone back in his pocket.  
>He took a gulp of his rapidly cooling coffee. "I don't want to<br>talk about him anymore."  
>218 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"All right. Another question then." Now Michael looked the  
>slightest bit flustered. "Is there . . . you know . . . a guy in the<br>picture?"  
>Nick couldn't keep the blush from his cheeks. "Ah . . . yeah."<br>"Aha. I was wondering why you told me now. Does he go to  
>your school?"<br>"No."  
>Michael stopped with the mug halfway to his mouth. "Please<br>tell me he's not thirty-five and you met him on craigslist."  
>Nick glared at him. "No. Jesus, Michael. He's nineteen. He<br>dances with Quinn."  
>"So all this time you've been spending with Quinn . . ."<br>"I've been spending with Adam." His jaw tightened. "And  
>Quinn has been spending with Tyler."<br>"Whoa!" Michael's eyebrows went way up. "Now we're  
>building a new puzzle."<br>"Yeah, it's fantastic."  
>"Can I revel in this first-to-know status and get the whole story?<br>Or do I have to drag that out of you during another dinner?"  
>"No," said Nick, feeling something like relief for the first<br>time in a week. "I'll tell you everything."  
>Michael had always made for a good audience, and he kept<br>his mouth shut while Nick talked.  
>Until he started laying it out, Nick hadn't realized how much<br>he'd been carrying around. He felt like sandbags had been  
>strapped to his back for weeks, and now someone had stabbed a<br>hole in one of them: it all poured out. He told Michael about the  
>first night he'd met Adam, the way Quinn had gotten in trouble<br>with some bikers on the beach. He talked about Adam's audition,  
>and Quinn's role, and—hesitantly at first—about the first<br>night at Adam's apartment.  
>When Michael's expression didn't change to disgust, Nick<br>gained momentum, revealing Adam's past experience and Quinn's  
>home situation. He talked about the way Tyler had burned her<br>arm, how she'd called Nick to pick her up in the woods, and how  
>SECRET 219<br>he'd snuck her into the house because she didn't want to go  
>home.<br>Michael was pissed about that. "Nick, if your friends need  
>help, you need to tell me. Don't sneak them inside."<br>"No girls spending the night, remember?"  
>"That's not the same and you know it. Are you aware that<br>when people dump their problems on you, you don't actually  
>have to solve them by yourself?"<br>Nick didn't have an answer for that.  
>Michael kept going. "I'm actually more concerned with how<br>you describe her home situation than I am about her spending  
>time with Tyler."<br>Nick flinched. "She won't tell me all the details. I don't know  
>what's going on at home half the time."<br>"If she's hiding in the woods, it can't be good."  
>Right now, after what she'd done, Nick didn't really give a<br>shit if Quinn was sleeping in the woods.  
>No. That wasn't true. He did care. A lot.<br>She sure didn't make it easy. "She says she's waiting for her  
>brother to go back to school. Her family is under a lot of stress<br>since the fire."  
>Michael sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Will she talk<br>to anyone? What about Becca?"  
>"She won't speak to her because Becca never told her about<br>the Elemental stuff. Then she got all pissed at me because I told  
>her Tyler was a dickhead who'd just hurt her. Now she's avoiding<br>everyone except Tyler." Nick's voice turned thick with disgust.  
>"I think he was at school to pick her up. She said she has a<br>new ride to school."  
>"What about Adam? Will she talk to him?"<br>Nick looked down at the table. "Maybe, but she hasn't been  
>showing up to dance."<br>"Could you ask him to reach out to her?"  
>Nick picked at the edge of his place mat and didn't say anything.<br>"Come on," said Michael. "Don't leave out part of the  
>story."<br>220 Brigid Kemmerer  
>So Nick told him about the previous night. About Adam.<br>And Hunter. His cheeks were on fire, and he didn't go to any  
>great detail, but he talked.<br>"Wow," said Michael, dragging the word into three syllables.  
>"No wonder you're so keyed up."<br>Nick shrugged. His mood darkened as his brain replayed  
>shoving Adam again. "Guess I'm aggressive sometimes, huh?"<br>Michael hesitated. "I didn't mean that as an insult, Nick."  
>He didn't need to. Nick got it. He couldn't help Quinn, he<br>couldn't fix things with Adam, and hell, he couldn't even stand  
>up to frigging Tyler.<br>"I'm going to talk to Becca's mom," Michael said finally.  
>"She knows Quinn's family."<br>"You don't need to get involved," Nick said.  
>"Wrong. I think I should have gotten involved a long time<br>ago." He paused and drained the last of his coffee. "I also have  
>a few thoughts about Tyler."<br>Nick looked at him in surprise. "You're going to confront him?"  
>"No. I'm going to leave him alone, and I think you should,<br>too." When Nick started to protest, Michael held up a hand. "I  
>don't think he's hurting Quinn." He paused, and his voice took<br>on a shadow of the pain he'd expressed when he'd talked about  
>that night at the quarry. "He hates me. He hates our whole family.<br>He hates what we are and he hates what we can do. We see  
>the dark side of Tyler because that's all he lets us see."<br>"Maybe that's all there is to see," Nick said bitterly.  
>"I don't think so," said Michael.<br>"Why not?"  
>"Because he loved his sister," Michael said. "Very much."<br>"How do you know?"  
>"Because he was the first kid I pulled out of the water that<br>night. He was bleeding all over the place and his shoulder was  
>dislocated, but once I brought him around, he coughed up a gallon<br>of water and fought like hell to go back under to find her."  
>He paused. "I understand why he hates us, Nick. I do. But I<br>think part of him hates himself, too."  
>Nick thought of the burn on Quinn's wrist. Of the way Tyler<br>SECRET 221  
>had grabbed him two hours ago. Of the years of abuse he'd suffered<br>at the hands of Tyler and Seth and their friends. He kept  
>flashing on that gym class freshman year, when Tyler had cornered<br>Nick in the locker room and beaten the crap out of him.  
>Nick could still remember feeling powerless, clenching his<br>fists so he wouldn't call elements by accident, afraid to swing  
>because he didn't want Tyler to hit him harder.<br>He'd switched places with Gabriel the next day. His twin  
>wasn't afraid to hit back.<br>What had Quinn said? Tyler still thinks your brother killed  
>his sister.<br>Tyler had confided in Quinn. About something that had happened  
>five years ago.<br>Quinn had confided in Tyler. What else had she told him?  
>Nick's head couldn't handle all these emotions. "Can we<br>go?" he asked abruptly.  
>Michael took it in stride. "Sure. If you're ready."<br>The drive home was quiet aside from the steady rain smacking  
>the windshield. This time, the temperature in the cab remained<br>steady. No tension hung between Nick and his brother.  
>"Thanks," Nick finally said. "For being okay."<br>"You don't have to thank me for that." Michael paused. "I  
>won't say anything to the guys."<br>Nick nodded. "Thanks."  
>Michael was silent for a while. "Can I tell Hannah?"<br>Nick thought about it. "Yeah. I think that'd be okay."  
>Michael nodded and didn't say anything else.<br>Nick wanted to put everyone's troubles out of his head, to let  
>the sound of rain on the windshield steal his thoughts and let<br>him relax. Instead, he kept analyzing his conversation with  
>Michael. About Quinn, about Adam.<br>About Tyler.  
>They were almost home when Nick figured out what Michael<br>had meant about Tyler.  
>He was the first kid Michael had pulled out of the water.<br>Covered in blood with a dislocated shoulder, but when I  
>brought him around . . .<br>222 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Tyler had been hit by a rock, too. Michael hadn't just lost<br>Emily that night.  
>He'd saved Tyler's life.<br>Quinn blotted at the cut on Tyler's cheek, being a little  
>rougher than she needed to be. "Why did you pick a fight with<br>him?"  
>"I didn't pick a fight."<br>"You're telling me you were only standing there and Nick  
>Merrick walked up and started bringing down a tornado on<br>your ass? Yeah, okay."  
>Tyler looked at her, not flinching as she pressed a cotton ball<br>full of antiseptic against his face. She honestly didn't know why  
>she was bothering—the cut was an hour old, and he could probably<br>light a candle and heal himself. Or something.  
>When he spoke, his voice was rough and angry. "I hated them<br>before, but now—" He gritted his teeth. "I hate that he's using  
>you, Quinn."<br>"He's not using me," she said quietly. "It's—it's an illusion.  
>I'm not doing anything for him. And he's my friend. I hate that<br>you got into it with him."  
>"If he's your friend, he should be protecting you."<br>She flung the cotton in the trash. "I can take care of myself."  
>"How? By clinging to any guy who will give you a second<br>glance?"  
>"Fuck you." She swung a fist to punch him in the chest.<br>He caught her wrist and, when she fought, wrestled her back  
>against the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavy, seething<br>with anger.  
>He got right in her face. "Get as mad as you want, baby girl.<br>You know it's true."  
>She hated him. Hated him.<br>She would not cry. Would not.  
>He held her there. "You sure do make it tough to help you.<br>I'm almost inclined to give Merrick a free pass."  
>"At least he doesn't treat me like this."<br>SECRET 223  
>"Like what? It's okay for you to punch me, but when I stop<br>you, I'm the asshole? Is that part of your screwed-up morality?"  
>Quinn didn't have anything to say to that.<br>Tyler kept going. "You keep acting like I'm hurting you because  
>I don't want to sleep with you. Guess what, sweetheart. I<br>don't want to sleep with someone who keeps acting like it's a  
>form of payment."<br>She flinched hard, unable to swallow past the sudden lump in  
>her throat.<br>"Do you even like me?" he said. "Or did I just show up at the  
>right time?"<br>That made her sag under the tension of his hands. She looked  
>away from him, clenching her jaw against tears and speech. Her<br>hair fell across her face, and she studied the bathroom tile.  
>"I've never lied to you," said Tyler. "I'm not going to start<br>now, okay?"  
>She had no idea where this was going. It sounded like a prelude<br>to him kicking her ass out of his apartment.  
>But then he said, "I've liked you since the day you went off<br>on me in Merrick's driveway. I like that you aren't afraid of me.  
>I like that you don't seem to be afraid of anything. I like that<br>you're driven, that you dance in the middle of the woods when  
>you have nowhere else. I like that you've been through hell with<br>your family, and you're still willing to come up kicking."  
>Quinn peeked at him through the fall of hair.<br>"You know what I hate?" he said evenly. "I hate that you're  
>too stubborn to ask anyone for help, even though you damn<br>sure need it. I hate when someone tries to help and you do  
>everything you can to make them wash their hands of you. But<br>the absolute worst thing, the thing that I can't fucking stand, is  
>how you're this beautiful, talented girl, but for some reason you<br>act like you need to buy a guy's favor."  
>Tears were running down her cheeks now. "I don't do that. I<br>don't."  
>"You do, Quinn." His hands softened on her wrists. "You do<br>it with me, and you did it with Merrick."  
>"I never did anything with Nick."<br>224 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Are you kidding me? You pretended to be his girlfriend!<br>You were so desperate to be attached to a guy that you latched  
>on to one who doesn't even like girls."<br>"I was helping him," she cried. "Because he was my friend."  
>"No, you were afraid to let him go," said Tyler. "Because you<br>were afraid to give someone a chance to like you for real."  
>She needed him to stop talking. She needed to stop crying.<br>She needed out. To get out. Of here. Right now.  
>But her limbs felt too weak, like she couldn't hold herself up.<br>"I get it," said Tyler. "I've seen your family. The people who  
>should love you, don't. I just—you're worth more than that. I<br>wish you could see that."  
>"Have you been studying for your Psych one-oh-one final or<br>something?" she said, trying for anger, but her voice came out  
>defeated. "Why don't you leave me alone."<br>He sighed and let her go. Quinn didn't move.  
>Tyler ran a hand through his blond hair. "Are you hungry?"<br>Quinn glanced up at him. After a long minute, she nodded.  
>"Feel like Chinese?"<br>"Okay." Her voice sounded broken.  
>His cell phone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pocket to<br>glance at the display. He sighed again, heavily. "Damn it. One of  
>the alarms is going off at the strip mall. I need to go check it<br>out." He hesitated. "Are you going to be okay for half an hour?  
>I'll bring food back with me."<br>No. She wouldn't be okay.  
>But Quinn nodded. What else could she do?<br>"Come on," he said. "I can't just leave you collapsed on the  
>floor of the bathroom."<br>She wiped the tears off her face and flopped on the couch instead.  
>He hesitated at the door. "I'm not going to come home and<br>find you gone, am I?"  
>She shook her head. Where else would she go?<br>Then he was gone, and it took everything she had not to call  
>him back.<br>His voice reverberated through her head.  
>SECRET 225<br>You're this beautiful, talented girl, but for some reason you  
>act like you need to buy a guy's favor.<br>Did she do that?  
>She thought of all the boys she'd dated, the way she treated<br>them, the way they treated her. Rafe Gutierrez, the boy who'd  
>acted surprised when she told him that no, they didn't have an<br>open relationship. Or Andy Kauffman, who said she was boring  
>when she didn't want to get naked in his basement night after<br>night. Or Lev Spartara, the boy she'd strung along with  
>promises of heavy make-out sessions in the backseat of his<br>mom's Toyota.  
>Had she been using them the same way they'd been using her?<br>She remembered sitting in Nick's front seat, climbing into his  
>lap, practically unbuttoning his pants after he'd told her she<br>couldn't spend the night at his house.  
>And then offering to continue being his girlfriend—under the<br>pretense of keeping his secret.  
>Tyler was right. She and Nick might have been friends, but<br>there was dishonesty on both sides of that relationship.  
>She fought her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through all<br>the text messages she'd ignored.  
>With shaking fingers, she dialed. The line was answered almost<br>immediately.  
>"Quinn? Are you okay?"<br>What did it say about her life that she got a greeting like that?  
>"Becca," she said, and suddenly she almost couldn't speak<br>through her tears. "Becca, I really need to talk to you."


	24. Chapter 24

Nick found Gabriel in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on  
>his bed, surrounded by textbooks. Headphones trailed<br>from his ears, and his pencil tapped in time with whatever he  
>was listening to. He either didn't notice Nick standing at the<br>door, or he deliberately wasn't looking up.  
>Nick wanted to shove him off the bed and kick him in the<br>face.  
>Not aggressive, my ass.<br>Gabriel finally looked up and yanked the headphones free.  
>"So I have to leave you alone, but you get to stand there like a<br>freaky stalker?"  
>Oh, good. New adjectives. Nick told his heartbeat to chill<br>out. He pushed Gabriel's door open. "I need to talk to you  
>about something."<br>Gabriel stared at him. Nick could read the debate on his face:  
>screw with Nick or just play it easy.<br>He went with the latter. His pencil dropped into the spine of  
>his trig textbook. "Okay. Talk."<br>"If you grabbed someone by the wrist, could you set their  
>skin on fire without anyone knowing you were doing it?"<br>Gabriel's eyebrows went up. "Not exactly what I thought  
>you'd want to talk about."<br>Nick didn't have an answer for that. He kept his gaze steady  
>and waited.<br>"Look, Nicky . . ." Gabriel hesitated. "Whatever I did to piss  
>you off, just—"<br>"Forget it." Nick was halfway out his door before Gabriel  
>slid off the bed to grab his arm.<br>"Stop," said his twin. "I'll answer your question, all right?"  
>Nick stopped, but he didn't look at him.<br>Michael was so right. Nick did resent Gabriel. For not figuring  
>it out. For not understanding.<br>For making it impossible to come out to him.  
>Gabriel drew a ragged breath, and it took Nick a second to<br>even remember his question about burning. "I don't know. I'd  
>have to try it. It would take a lot of control. A lot of focus."<br>"Fine." Nick held out his wrist, the good one. "Try it."  
>"Okay."<br>Nick braced himself, but Gabriel turned his head. "Hey,  
>Chris. Come here. I want to try something."<br>Chris came out of his room, took one look at them, and  
>turned around. "No way. I know that look."<br>But Gabriel was too quick. He rushed around Nick and  
>caught Chris's door before it latched. He forced his way<br>through.  
>And five seconds later, Chris was yelling and punching him<br>and shoving past Nick to get to the bathroom. He was clutching  
>his wrist. "What the fuck, Gabriel?"<br>Then the door slammed and the water was running.  
>Gabriel turned to Nick and smiled. "So, yeah. I can do it."<br>Nick didn't smile. "So can Tyler."  
>Gabriel sobered. "Tyler Morgan? No way."<br>Nick held up his arm and pulled back the sleeve, showing his  
>scabs. "Way."<br>His brother's face darkened. "I'm going to kill him."  
>Nick couldn't help it. All his rage boiled up and he shoved<br>Gabriel. Hard. "You don't need to defend me all the time!"  
>Gabriel fell back a step and put his hands up. "Jesus, Nick.<br>Fine! You kill him. Whatever."  
>228 Brigid Kemmerer<br>God, none of his conversations were going the way he expected.  
>Nick took a second to get it together. "I don't know if I<br>could. I think he might be a full Elemental."  
>"Well," said Gabriel. He glanced behind him and dropped his<br>voice. "You want to go find out?"  
>Gabriel had an idea already. Nick could sense it. It would<br>probably be half cocked and downright crazy. The kind of plan  
>Nick would usually talk him out of.<br>The kind of plan Nick was expected to talk him out of.  
>"Sure." Nick met his eyes. "Let me get my coat."<br>Common sense would have dictated that they bring Hunter  
>along. He was a Fifth, and a powerful one, and they were literally<br>playing with fire.  
>But Nick was already on edge, and he wasn't sure he could<br>handle the pressure of being with two people on opposite ends  
>of a spectrum: one knowing his secret, one not.<br>So he and Gabriel went out alone.  
>Nick drove. Gabriel usually claimed the driver's seat, but<br>Nick needed to be in control of something or he was going to go  
>to pieces. He'd snatched the keys out from under his brother's<br>hand in the front hall, ready for Gabriel to protest.  
>But his twin had just shrugged and said, "Fine. You drive."<br>Thick clouds hung overhead, blocking the stars, cloaking the  
>road in darkness. The rain had stopped, but those clouds would<br>only need a little push to start dumping water again.  
>Rain could've been a safety net. Maybe they should have<br>brought Chris.  
>If nothing else, for conversation. Gabriel wasn't saying a<br>word. He'd been silent for miles. Nick could feel the tension like  
>a vibration in the air, mixing with the cool humidity, as if his<br>brother's uncertainty created a whole new level of energy.  
>Gabriel was waiting for Nick to spill, to pour out his problems<br>the way he usually did. Nick was the thinker. The talker.  
>The analyzer. Gabriel was all about action. If Nick presented a<br>problem, Gabriel provided a solution—even if his idea of a solution  
>was a fistfight.<br>SECRET 229  
>Not having a way to solve this problem, this distance, was<br>making Gabriel nuts. Nick could tell.  
>And a petty, vindictive part of Nick reveled in it.<br>That lasted about twenty seconds. Then he felt like crap.  
>He glanced over. "Hey. What's your plan?"<br>"To set him on fire."  
>"Seriously."<br>Gabriel's eyes were on the windshield, his voice dark and full  
>of anger. "I am serious. I'm sick of him fucking with you, Nicky.<br>I don't know what he's doing to you and Quinn, but I know  
>something is up."<br>So all that silence had left Gabriel with time to draw the  
>wrong conclusions.<br>"We're not setting him on fire," Nick said.  
>"Fine. What do you want to do?"<br>The words were a challenge. Nick wasn't sure how to respond.  
>Honestly, he wished they could simply walk up to Tyler<br>and ask what the deal was. He was so tired of fighting.  
>"I don't know yet," he said.<br>A bolt of lightning cracked the sky in front of them, followed  
>by a roll of thunder. Gabriel's power flared in the air. He wasn't<br>tired of fighting. If the eager tension in the atmosphere was any  
>indication, he was ready for a battle.<br>Suddenly, Nick didn't want to be out tonight. He didn't want  
>to be picking a fight. Maybe he'd used up all his emotion earlier<br>in the evening. Maybe Michael's talk about Emily and Quinn  
>had softened the edge of his anger against Tyler.<br>Or maybe he was afraid.  
>Nick swallowed that back. If he admitted fear now, he'd lose<br>more ground with his twin. He'd be the creepy freak who couldn't  
>solve his own problems. The weak one.<br>"Where are we going?" said Gabriel.  
>"Tyler's parents' shopping center," Nick said. "Quinn said<br>he's been guarding the place every night. From vandals or something."  
>Just as he said it, they crested the hill, and the lights from the<br>230 Brigid Kemmerer  
>7-Eleven sign broke through the darkness. Nick could see the<br>big SUV in the parking lot and knew Tyler was there.  
>He wanted to keep on driving.<br>Instead, he hit the turn signal and pulled off the road just past  
>the shopping center, killing the lights as the car drifted to a stop<br>along Ritchie Highway.  
>Then he turned off the engine and sat there.<br>He didn't want to do this. Everything felt wrong.  
>"How does Quinn know?" said Gabriel.<br>"What?"  
>"How does Quinn know what Tyler is doing at night?"<br>"Apparently she walks over here sometimes. That's her  
>apartment building." Nick pointed.<br>Gabriel was quiet for a minute. "So do you think she and  
>Tyler—?"<br>"Come on," Nick said. He didn't want his brother to finish  
>that thought. He climbed out of the cab.<br>Nick wished he'd chosen more concealing clothing than a  
>white T-shirt under a jacket. Gabriel was a shadow in a dark<br>hoodie and charcoal-gray jeans. They stepped over the guard  
>rail to slink through the trees beside the road.<br>The 7-Eleven sign grew larger with each step. Nick could  
>hear his own breathing, faster than Gabriel's. When they came<br>to the tree line, Nick hesitated, not wanting to lose the cover. To  
>cross the street, they'd pass directly below half a dozen streetlamps.<br>He expected his brother to move on without him, leading the  
>way to disaster.<br>But Gabriel stopped, too, and looked at him.  
>"What?"<br>"You tell me, Nicky." Gabriel's voice made small clouds of  
>steam in the air.<br>Nick froze. Those words seemed loaded with more than just  
>an inquiry about what to do next.<br>He had to look away from his brother, so he put his eyes on  
>the strip mall. "I don't want to cause damage to someone else's<br>property. There have been enough fires."  
>SECRET 231<br>"Let's go back in the woods. Burn some leaves." Gabriel  
>fished a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it.<br>Nick caught it. "Why?"  
>"It'll lure him out. If he's a pure Elemental, he'll sense it."<br>"Even from here?" They were at least a hundred feet from  
>the parking lot.<br>Gabriel nodded and started walking back into the dense  
>darkness of the woods.<br>Nick followed, sliding the lighter between his fingers. "What  
>if he ignores it?"<br>"Then he's not a full Elemental and I can go punch that mofo in  
>the face." He stopped once they were out of sight and pointed to the<br>ground. "Here's good. The leaves are dry underneath and they'll  
>smoke more. I don't want anyone to see it from the road yet."<br>Nick held up the lighter. "You still need these?"  
>"No, but you do. I don't want him to sense my power." He<br>paused and glanced around, surveying the area. "It might be  
>better if he thinks you're alone."<br>"So we're setting a trap."  
>"Yeah. See if he'll come after you again."<br>"Lucky me."  
>Gabriel studied him again, as if trying to figure him out. "Do<br>you not want to do this? We can say screw it and get coffee or  
>whatever."<br>Yes. Let's.  
>Wait. No. Talking would be a bad idea.<br>Nick cocked an eyebrow. "You want to run from a fight?"  
>"No, Nick!" Gabriel snapped, closing the distance between<br>them. "I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on."  
>Nick ignored him. He flipped open the lighter and struck the<br>igniter. Then he dropped and touched the flame to the dead  
>leaves trapped under the damp ones. The fire caught immediately,<br>sending smoke curling between them, turning the air hazy.  
>"Go," Nick said. "Hide."<br>Gabriel swore, but he turned his back and walked. He didn't  
>go far. Nick could still sense his presence nearby—like he could<br>still sense his agitation. No, his fury.  
>232 Brigid Kemmerer<br>It was probably a good thing Nick had the car keys.  
>He fed oxygen to the fire, and thicker smoke bloomed from<br>the smoldering leaves. Nick called for a gentle breeze to push  
>the smoke toward the strip mall, despite Gabriel's assurance<br>that Tyler would sense the presence of his element.  
>It wasn't necessary—or maybe it worked too well. In less<br>than a minute, Nick sensed another presence in the woods. He  
>pulled wind through the trees, asking the air for information.<br>Nicotine and male sweat. Curiosity and irritation. Tyler.  
>Nick thought of the way his skin had practically melted off<br>his wrist, but he held his ground.  
>"Starting a little fire?" said Tyler.<br>"Something like that," said Nick. He kept his attention on  
>the burning leaves. Tyler hadn't reacted to the fire, and Nick<br>sensed no power in the space between them. Maybe he was  
>wrong.<br>"Don't tell me," said Tyler. "You think you owe me one for  
>messing with your brother."<br>What? Who else had Tyler—  
>Oh. Oh. The lighter in his hand, the fire on the ground—<br>Tyler thought he was Gabriel.  
>Infuriating. Even Tyler knew he couldn't stand up for himself.<br>Sudden wind whipped through the trees, responding to  
>Nick's anger. It swirled around them, buffeting the flames,<br>pulling the smoke into the beginning of a spiral.  
>"Wrong," said Nick. "I think I owe you one for messing<br>with me."  
>He had the satisfaction of seeing Tyler look startled, but then<br>his expression settled into something closer to determination.  
>He started forward, heedless of the wind and the flames.<br>Nick instinctively took a step back—but he didn't need to.  
>His wind grabbed the flames and pulled them high, feeding oxygen<br>to the fire, creating a barrier between him and Tyler.  
>Tyler stopped, but his eyes narrowed. "You think a little<br>wind and fire are going to scare me?"  
>"Looks like it's scaring you now." Nick held his ground, but<br>his heart was in his throat. He remembered the pain of his wrist  
>SECRET 233<br>under Tyler's grip. The smell of his skin burning. He fed power  
>into the wind, letting it draw the fire higher, until the flames<br>began to pull sideways, spreading to surround Tyler.  
>This was like the leaves with Quinn. Only terrifying, as he realized<br>that leaves wouldn't hurt anyone, and a spinning plume  
>of fire could have very real consequences.<br>Focus.  
>"Think you're something?" said Tyler. "You want to call elements<br>against me? Fuck you, Merrick."  
>And then he sent the fire driving outward.<br>Nick felt it—maybe the air warned him, or maybe Tyler was  
>stronger than Nick had imagined. But the circle of fire flared<br>outward, reaching for him, full of murderous rage.  
>Nick sent the wind a flare of power himself, full of vengeful<br>rage about every single thing Tyler had ever done to him. The  
>circle paused, hesitating in a vibrant red glow that encircled<br>Tyler.  
>Then it snapped, collapsing inward, attacking Tyler with fire.<br>The other boy's clothes lit up like he'd been doused in kerosene.  
>Then the tight coil of wind caught his body and flipped him in<br>the air. He came down in the leaves, a pile of burning clothes  
>and rage.<br>Holy shit. Gabriel really had set him on fire.  
>Or maybe Nick had.<br>The leaves caught, sending black smoke to swarm around  
>them. Between the smoke and the fire, Nick was going to lose<br>sight of Tyler in a moment.  
>And if Tyler wasn't a full Elemental, he was going to die in<br>minutes.  
>From the way Tyler's face contorted, it might only be seconds.<br>He looked like he was screaming, but he wasn't making a  
>sound. His hands scrabbled at his throat.<br>Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Nick hadn't come here to kill someone.  
>Where the hell was Gabriel?<br>Nick was torn between sucking the oxygen out of the air and  
>forcing it into Tyler's lungs. Was he burning to death or suffocating?<br>It didn't matter. The atmosphere was too focused on de-  
>234 Brigid Kemmerer<br>struction now. Thunder rolled overhead. Lightning hit a tree.  
>Ozone charged the air and flaming branches rained around<br>them.  
>Tyler's eyes rolled back in his head. Another lightning strike<br>somewhere off to Nick's left.  
>"Damn it, Gabriel," Nick called. "Stop! Help me!"<br>Tyler's cheeks were red and raw. His eyes fell closed. Nick  
>reached forward and grabbed the other boy's jacket. The zipper<br>was hot from the flames and burned his palms. Nick flung all of  
>his power into the space between them. He did this with Gabriel<br>all the time—stopped fires before they caused too much damage.  
>He could do it now.<br>Stop this, he pleaded with his element. Heal him.  
>It took a moment, but the wind listened. The fire died down<br>to nothing more than a few spirals of flame dancing in the  
>breeze. Wind licked between them, settling, stealing the redness<br>from Tyler's cheeks.  
>For an instant, Tyler didn't move. Then he sucked in a rough<br>breath of air. Then another.  
>"Jesus," said Nick, feeling a bit breathless himself. "You're<br>not dead."  
>Tyler's eyes opened. Nick let him go, expecting to see pain,<br>confusion, fear.  
>He saw derision.<br>"Not dead yet," said Tyler. He grabbed Nick's jacket with  
>fistfuls of flame and shoved, true power in the motion. Nick's<br>back hit a tree.  
>But that didn't hurt half as much as the bolt of lightning that<br>hit him next.


	25. Chapter 25

"Nick. Nick."  
>Gabriel's voice. He sounded almost panicked. Hands<br>gripped Nick's shoulders, shaking him. "Come on, Nicky.  
>Please. Come on."<br>Nick couldn't remember how to open his eyes. It felt like he'd  
>been hit by a truck.<br>"No, you idiot," Gabriel said, that panic giving way to  
>choked relief. "You were hit by lightning."<br>Were his eyes open? He couldn't see anything. Was he talking?  
>"You're talking," said Gabriel. "Open your eyes."<br>He didn't want to open his eyes. The air was dancing on his  
>skin and it felt wonderful.<br>Dancing. Adam.  
>Nick wished he could apologize. He wished he could fix it.<br>"Come on, Nick," said Gabriel. "You're scaring me."  
>He was kind of scaring himself. He felt disconnected, like his<br>body ached, but he couldn't feel it yet.  
>Next time, he was so making Gabriel play bait.<br>Gabriel choked out a sound, half laugh, half sob. "I will, Nick.  
>I promise." It felt like he was patting Nick's cheek. "Come on.<br>Wake up."  
>Nick opened his eyes and looked at his brother.<br>Gabriel was kneeling there in the charred leaves and undergrowth,  
>holding him up against a tree, his eyes tense and worried.<br>Nick was struck with déjà vu. They'd been eight or nine, riding  
>bikes through the woods, jumping the creek the way they'd<br>done a thousand times. A storm had washed away part of the  
>creek walls, leaving the ground soft and muddy. Gabriel, in the<br>lead as usual, made the jump with little difficulty.  
>But his bike had made a rut. Nick's bike caught it and sank<br>into the mud, stuck. It had stopped. Nick hadn't. His head had  
>cracked into a tree.<br>He'd woken up just like this, staring into his twin brother's  
>panicked eyes.<br>"My bike broke," he mumbled now.  
>"Not this time." Gabriel smiled, but there was still a shadow<br>of worry behind it.  
>Of course he'd share the exact same memory at the exact<br>same moment.  
>"How do you feel?" said Gabriel.<br>"Oh. Stellar."  
>"No—I mean, can you walk?"<br>Nick thought about it. "Not yet."  
>Gabriel sighed, but he didn't let him go.<br>"Tyler?" said Nick.  
>"He ran," said Gabriel. His voice grew dark. "As soon as you<br>collapsed. If you think you can stay upright, I'm going to find  
>him and kill him."<br>Nick struggled to find his hands, and he grabbed Gabriel's  
>wrist. "No—no." He paused, trying to make his addled brain<br>sort out the evening's events. But one thing was clear—they'd  
>come here with the intent to out Tyler's abilities. Nick remembered<br>the power in the air, the way his fear had manifested itself  
>in damaging winds that attacked Tyler until fire consumed him.<br>He'd been the bully tonight. Not Tyler.  
>It should have been satisfying. It wasn't.<br>"Our fault," he said.  
>Gabriel shook his head. "My fault." He paused. "I should<br>have helped you."  
>SECRET 237<br>Now Nick remembered. His thoughts were straightening out,  
>finding true clarity. "You let him burn! You called lightning!<br>You let him—"  
>"I didn't call that lightning, Nick. He did." Gabriel looked<br>away. "I should have helped you before it got to that point."  
>Nick shoved his hands away. "Yeah, thanks. Thanks for<br>making me play bait, and forgetting to snap the trap."  
>"An hour ago you got all shitty because I wanted to defend<br>you! What the hell do you want from me, Nick? What?"  
>I want you to know what I want.<br>Nick put a hand against the ground and pushed himself to his  
>feet. He wavered for a second, but Gabriel didn't grab him.<br>He looked down at himself. Pieces of leaves clung to his  
>jeans, and his jacket was smudged with bits of soot where Tyler<br>had grabbed him, but really, he didn't look any the worse for  
>wear.<br>The air was happy he was awake. He felt better with every  
>breath, as if he inhaled pure power.<br>He started walking toward the car.  
>After a moment, Gabriel jogged to catch up with him.<br>"Give me the keys," he said. "You're in no shape to drive."  
>Nick wanted to protest, but his twin was probably right. He<br>pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over. He didn't  
>look at Gabriel when they climbed in to the car.<br>This whole evening hadn't solved anything. So Tyler was a  
>full Elemental. So what? When the next round of Guides came<br>to town, they could add him to the list. When Tyler came after  
>him again, he could mess with Nick all that much more effectively.<br>This sucked.  
>Nick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to see if fate had<br>inspired Adam to send him a message.  
>Fate told him to go to hell. The phone was completely dead.<br>Either the lightning had killed the battery, or it had killed the  
>phone completely.<br>Great. Nick slammed it into the center console.  
>238 Brigid Kemmerer<br>The tension in the car was thicker now than when they'd first  
>left the house. Nick's skin crawled with it.<br>After a few minutes, Gabriel pulled his phone out of his  
>pocket and held it out. "Here. Use mine."<br>Yeah, right. Nick shook his head.  
>His brother sighed and shoved it back in his pocket.<br>Silence again. This time, more strained than before, if that  
>was possible. The temperature in the car dropped ten degrees.<br>Nick was almost shaking with the effort of sitting here calmly.  
>"Fuck this," said Gabriel. He yanked the wheel abruptly,<br>sending them careening into a parking lot along Ritchie Highway.  
>By some miracle, they avoided striking a parked car.<br>"Are you insane?" Nick grabbed the handle over the door.  
>"What the hell are you doing?"<br>"Parking." Gabriel jerked the car into a parking place in  
>front of a coffee shop. It wasn't Starbucks, but instead a huge<br>café with leather couches and oak tables and hot sandwiches.  
>Nick had brought a girl here once. After a movie or something.<br>He couldn't remember her name. Tonight, it was packed.  
>"What are we doing here?" Nick said.<br>Gabriel kept his eyes on the windshield. He didn't say anything  
>for a long moment. "I can't do this, Nick. I know—" His<br>voice caught, and he took a second to get it together before continuing.  
>"I know I deserve it. After keeping the fires from you.<br>But this—this doesn't feel like something you're doing." He  
>peeked over at Nick.<br>Nick couldn't move. He couldn't even look at his brother.  
>"What happened last night?" Gabriel said. "When you were<br>talking to Hunter?"  
>Nick's head snapped to the side. Gabriel was referring to<br>whatever had led to Nick looking like a hot mess on the stairs,  
>but all Nick heard were Gabriel's words. My brother has<br>enough freaks pining after him.  
>He must have looked fierce because Gabriel put his hands up.<br>"I don't want to fight with you," Gabriel said. "Christ—I don't  
>even know why we are fighting."<br>SECRET 239  
>Nick swallowed and looked at the windshield.<br>"You don't have to tell me," Gabriel said after a minute. "I—  
>I wish I knew why you won't."<br>It sounded like it cost him something to say that.  
>"I want to tell you," said Nick.<br>The words fell out of his mouth almost against his will.  
>And as soon as he said them, he realized how true they were.<br>He wanted to tell Gabriel about Adam. He told his brother  
>everything, and now he felt more strongly about another human<br>being than he ever had, and he couldn't breathe a word about it.  
>The mental strife was choking him.<br>No, the terror of losing his brother was choking him.  
>But wasn't he doing that anyway?<br>I can't do this, Nick.  
>Nick couldn't, either. He cleared his throat and nodded at the<br>front of the café. "I probably should have picked coffee when  
>you suggested it earlier."<br>"Pick coffee now."  
>Sit. Talk to me. That's what his brother was saying.<br>Nick took a breath. He nodded. "Okay."  
>The café had looked crowded from the parking lot, and getting<br>up close to the front door confirmed it. Every table seemed  
>occupied, but the line for the register wasn't too long.<br>Still, someplace this packed wouldn't exactly be conducive to  
>the kind of discussion Nick had in mind.<br>Then again, Gabriel probably wouldn't flip out in the middle  
>of a crowd of people.<br>"We can come back out here to sit," said Gabriel. "Plenty of  
>room."<br>Nick looked at him. It was barely forty-five degrees, so all the  
>tables were deserted. But sitting in the fresh air would help—<br>Gabriel knew that. This was an olive branch.  
>"It's not too cold?"<br>Gabriel dropped into one of the wire chairs in front of the  
>restaurant. "Nah. I'll hold the table so we don't have to play the<br>twin game."  
>240 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Meaning the thirty-eight thousand questions they encountered  
>when seen in public together. Nick smiled, though it felt<br>uncertain. "All right."  
>He waited in line inside the warm bustle of the restaurant,<br>wondering if this was an olive branch, too: Gabriel giving him  
>time to think.<br>And he needed time to think.  
>Nerves made him jittery. What if his brother walked away?<br>What if he said he wasn't okay with it?  
>Creepy. Freak.<br>Nick ran a hand through his hair and told himself to calm  
>down.<br>Maybe he should lead off with Adam. So . . . I've met someone.  
>It's new, and it's special, but . . . it's a guy.<br>Maybe not.  
>I know you're worried about Quinn, but we're not really together.<br>No, not since she caught me kissing a guy.  
>Ugh. This was horrible.<br>I've been lying to you for years.  
>Sure.<br>The line inched along. An older couple came in and got in  
>line behind him.<br>Nick took another slow breath. Maybe this would be like it  
>had been with Michael. Maybe it would be okay. Awkward at<br>first, but . . . okay.  
>No, Gabriel was nothing like Michael. Gabriel would have a<br>reaction.  
>Who do you think the hottest person in the restaurant is?<br>Then Gabriel would pick some girl, and Nick could pick the  
>busboy who looked a little like Adam.<br>Jesus, he sounded like a frigging moron. These were the best  
>ideas his brain could come up with? No wonder he was failing<br>physics.  
>Some girls came in, giggling and jostling each other as they<br>moved to the end of the line. He could smell their perfume from  
>here, bubblegum sweet. Nick ignored them, shifting forward<br>one place when the line moved.  
>SECRET 241<br>But then he caught the tail end of what one girl was saying. ". . .  
>out front look like they're gonna fight."<br>Fight. A word practically synonymous with Gabriel.  
>Nick turned. The lights inside made it difficult to make out<br>what was going on behind the glass, but he could see his brother's  
>form. He looked like he was talking to someone.<br>Then Nick saw the shove, hard enough to make the other  
>person fall back.<br>Nick swore and gave up his place in line. Had Tyler followed  
>them here somehow?<br>But then he got close enough to the glass storefront to make  
>out Gabriel's opponent.<br>Adam.  
>Nick's heart tripped and stalled in his chest. He couldn't remember<br>how to breathe. He couldn't remember how to move.  
>How had this happened?<br>Adam had his hands up. He looked agitated, but he didn't  
>want to fight.<br>Gabriel shoved him anyway. Adam fell back another step.  
>That forced Nick's feet into motion. He needed to stop this.<br>Now.  
>Cold air hit him in the face, carrying Gabriel's voice, low and<br>angry. "What the fuck do you mean, you're sorry about last  
>night? What are you doing to my brother?"<br>"Stop!" Nick said. Neither paid attention to him.  
>"It's a misunderstanding," said Adam, his voice careful.<br>Gabriel shoved him again, harder. "A misunderstanding?"  
>Adam fell back, but he kept his hands up. "Yeah." Now his<br>voice was edged with anger. "Just calm down."  
>"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Gabriel shoved<br>him again.  
>Adam gave up the surrender position and shoved him back.<br>Gabriel drew back an arm to hit him.  
>Nick didn't even remember moving. He had a hold of<br>Gabriel's arm and he was driving him back, until his twin hit the  
>cinder block wall of the shopping center.<br>"Don't you touch him," he said fiercely. He might have been  
>242 Brigid Kemmerer<br>yelling. He gave Gabriel a shove against the wall for good measure.  
>"You hear me? You keep your hands off him."<br>Gabriel's eyes were wide. Their breathing was loud, putting  
>twin puffs of steam between them. Time seemed to hold still.<br>Nick kept seeing Gabriel's fist drawn back, ready to smash  
>into Adam's jaw. Nick wanted to slam him into the wall again.<br>For the first time in his life, he wouldn't back down from his  
>brother for anything.<br>Gabriel's eyes went from Nick to Adam and back.  
>Then he coiled all his strength to throw Nick off.<br>Nick had leverage—and while he couldn't fight like Gabriel,  
>he was every bit as strong. He slammed him back into the wall.<br>Harder this time. Gabriel's head hit the cinder block.  
>"Hey. Hey." Adam put a hand on Nick's arm. "Take it easy,"<br>he said quietly. "Let him go. It's a misunderstanding."  
>Nick looked across into his brother's eyes. He saw the exact<br>moment when Gabriel put two and two together.  
>And Nick waited for his brother to swallow the aggression,<br>to be decent, to take this horrible moment and make everything  
>okay.<br>But Gabriel's expression turned dark and furious. "So is this  
>part of your big secret, Nicky?"<br>If he'd just said the words, Nick wouldn't have cared.  
>But Gabriel said it in a high-pitched mocking lisp.<br>Nick couldn't see through the rage. He lifted a fist to swing.  
>And that was all Gabriel needed. He twisted free of Nick's<br>grip and ducked under the flying fist.  
>Nick's hand cracked into the cinder block wall.<br>Then Gabriel's hand cracked into his face.  
>For the second time in one night, Nick went down.<br>And suddenly, they had a crowd. An older man was in front  
>of Gabriel, blocking him, his hands up. "Take a walk, son. Take<br>a walk. Cool off."  
>Nick saw stars and tasted blood. He couldn't feel his fingers<br>yet. He started to get to his feet, but Adam grabbed his arm and  
>held him there.<br>"Don't get up," he said. "Let him walk away."  
>SECRET 243<br>Gabriel watched this, clear derision in his expression. "You  
>don't have to hold him," he snapped. "Nick will stay down."<br>"Walk," ordered the older man. "Or we're calling the cops."  
>He paused. "Now."<br>For an instant, Nick thought Gabriel would shove past the  
>guy. The air held so much violent potential.<br>But then his twin brother turned and walked away. No parting  
>words, no final epithets. Just measured steps along the sidewalk,<br>across the stretch of road, before giving way to a car door  
>slamming.<br>And then the rumble of an engine. He was leaving.  
>Nick was distantly aware that his breath was shaking. And<br>now he could feel pain roaring into his fingers. Not to mention  
>his face.<br>What just happened?  
>Adam was pulling at his arm now, gently. "Come on. Can<br>you stand?"  
>He could stand. They tried to get him to go back in the<br>restaurant, but Nick didn't want all those eyes on him.  
>But Adam insisted on sitting down, so Nick dropped into one<br>of the metal chairs out front, the one closest to the shadows of  
>the next storefront.<br>The man who'd gotten in front of Gabriel turned out to be  
>the café owner. He brought them each a cup of coffee and a bag<br>of ice for Nick.  
>Nick was shocked this guy wasn't calling the cops anyway.<br>Nick had been the one to shove Gabriel into the wall.  
>"I'm sorry for disrupting your night," Adam said to him.<br>"You didn't do anything," the man said. "The girls inside  
>said that other boy started it." He tsked. "Shame there are still<br>such closed-minded people picking fights about this kind of  
>thing. You're lucky your . . . friend was here to stop him."<br>"I know I am," said Adam.  
>"You sure you boys won't come inside? I'm worried he'll<br>come back."  
>Had the man not noticed they were twins? That this wasn't<br>244 Brigid Kemmerer  
>some random hate crime? Maybe it was too dark. Maybe it had<br>happened too fast.  
>Nick cleared his throat. "He's my brother. He won't come<br>back."  
>Those words hung in the air for a moment.<br>"We'll be all right," said Adam.  
>And then they were alone.<br>Nick hadn't touched the ice, but Adam sat in the opposite  
>metal chair and reached for it. Then he put the bag against<br>Nick's face.  
>And Nick was struck with an entirely different sort of déjà<br>vu. A different night, a different fight, but Adam's hand holding  
>an ice bag just like this.<br>Back then, Nick had leapt out of his chair to kiss him. Now,  
>he wasn't sure what to do. About any of it.<br>"Would you rather put this on your hand?" Adam said.  
>Nick tried to categorize his injuries and came up with nothing.<br>He couldn't think past his brother's angry eyes and the fight  
>and the way he'd walked off.<br>And what he'd said.  
>It hurt. It hurt more than anything physical.<br>Nick swallowed and shook his head.  
>They sat there for the longest time in the darkness, breathing<br>the same air. The pain began to fade from Nick's hand as his element  
>worked its magic.<br>Nick almost wished it wouldn't. This he wanted to remember  
>for a while.<br>When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "Did he hurt you?"  
>"No." Adam looked chagrined. "And I shouldn't have<br>shoved him. But he kept pushing me, and there's only so much  
>of that big-dumb-straight-boy crap that I can put up with. Especially<br>since . . . you know."  
>Nick did know. And if Gabriel had hurt Adam . . . Nick wasn't<br>sure what he would have done.  
>But he'd felt a glimmer of it when he was slamming Gabriel<br>into that wall.  
>SECRET 245<br>He pulled the ice bag away from his face and set it on the  
>table. "I'm sorry that he—that he—"<br>"It's not your fault." Adam touched his cheek, and his hand  
>was warm. Nick shut his eyes and leaned into the contact. He<br>felt the pain, but it was worth it.  
>He opened his eyes. "Then I'm sorry for what I did. Last<br>night."  
>Adam nodded and withdrew his hand, reaching for the ice<br>pack again. "I am, too." He glanced up, and the slightest bit of  
>rueful humor slid into his voice. "In fact, I was trying to apologize<br>to you fifteen minutes ago. I didn't realize that when you said  
>identical twin, you weren't kidding about the identical part."<br>Nick frowned. "Only on the outside." Then he remembered  
>the whole reason for the apology, and he looked away, ashamed.<br>"Usually."  
>"No, what you did was nothing like what he did." Adam<br>caught his eye and held it. "Don't get me wrong. What you did  
>was not okay."<br>"I know."  
>"I know you know. That's why I'm sitting here."<br>"How did you know I'd be here?"  
>Adam picked up Nick's hand and held the ice against his<br>knuckles. He looked sheepish. "I didn't. I came here to avoid  
>you. I figured you usually go to the Starbucks down the road."<br>He paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck. "I needed to  
>grab a cup of coffee on the way to my parents', because I told<br>them I'd stop by tonight. Then I saw you—well, your brother—  
>sitting there, and I . . . ah, well, I couldn't go another minute<br>without talking to you."  
>Nick studied him. The lighting was dim, but . . . "You're<br>blushing!"  
>Adam looked away. "Yeah, yeah."<br>"But you wouldn't respond to my texts!"  
>"Well, I couldn't let you think you got off that easy."<br>"Oh, I get it. So you've been torturing me." But Nick smiled.  
>"Absolutely. And torturing myself at the same time." Adam<br>slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.  
>246 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Oh, good," said Nick. "This is a moment I want a record of."  
>"You don't smile enough. That makes them meaningful." He<br>paused, then turned the phone around so Nick could see. His  
>voice lost any humor. "I should send this to your brother."<br>Nick glanced at it. A bruise was already forming on his  
>cheek, more obvious because of the flash in the darkness.<br>He reached out and pushed the button to make the phone go  
>dark. Gabriel's mocking voice was a never-ending echo in his<br>head; he didn't need to see the evidence of physical aggression  
>on top of it. Such a contrast to that moment in the car, when<br>Nick had realized how badly he wanted to share this with his  
>brother.<br>Or that moment in the woods. Gabriel's voice, tight with  
>panic. Come on, Nicky. Please. You're scaring me.<br>Or the thousand moments before that. A lifetime of memories  
>with his twin brother, undone in an instant.<br>You don't have to hold him. Nick will stay down.  
>"Okay," said Adam softly. "Okay. Come on."<br>It was only then that Nick realized his breath was shaking  
>and his eyes had filled. Adam's fingers wrapped around his good<br>hand and tugged. Nick allowed himself to be led.  
>When he was sure his voice wouldn't break, he said, "Where<br>are we going?"  
>"Bus stop. My place?"<br>Nick nodded. He certainly couldn't go home.  
>If he was being strictly honest with himself, he was afraid to<br>go home.  
>God, he was such a wuss.<br>But when they were on the near-empty bus, sharing a bench  
>at the back of the vehicle, Adam leaned into him and spoke quietly.<br>"When you pushed him away from me—that was the  
>bravest thing I've ever seen."<br>Nick scoffed, but Adam put a finger over his lips. "It was.  
>For me, it was. Take it or leave it."<br>Nick took it.


	26. Chapter 26

Quinn hadn't told Becca everything.  
>She'd left out Nick's secret.<br>She'd left out Tyler.  
>She'd left out the trophy and the bruise and the fire on the<br>beach.  
>But she'd cried and talked about how much she missed her<br>best friend, about how much it hurt when Becca treated her like  
>she was overdramatic, how she needed to figure out how to<br>trust her again.  
>How much Quinn needed Becca to be there when she was<br>ready to tell her everything.  
>She'd expected Becca to brush her off. If she was being<br>strictly honest with herself, she'd expected Becca to sigh and  
>huff and start talking about Chris.<br>But Becca had cried with her and told her how much she  
>missed her, too, and Quinn realized that some of her worries<br>about her best friend were exaggerations she'd created in her  
>mind.<br>Another example of pushing someone away before they had  
>the opportunity to help her.<br>Becca had begged her to come stay with her, but Quinn had  
>refused. She needed more time to untangle the snarled mess of<br>her thoughts. To decide how much trust she was willing to  
>share.<br>Now, Quinn was ready for Tyler to come home with Chinese  
>food, to sit across from him and have a real conversation.<br>She'd mocked him about honor, but really, he'd been incredibly  
>honorable toward her. He'd never lied. He'd never taken her<br>up on her offer to "repay" him.  
>She was ready to stop pushing him away.<br>Nick, too. Quinn reassessed the way she'd treated him. He'd  
>been trying to protect her from Tyler, and she'd all but told him<br>to fuck off.  
>Not all but. She had. She still had the text in her phone history.<br>She'd pushed Adam away, too, that night she'd blown him  
>off, the night she'd jumped on a bus and texted Tyler.<br>When she really thought about it, she had a lot of people  
>looking out for her, and she'd treated them all like crap.<br>Then Tyler strolled through the door looking like he'd been  
>in a fight. His jacket was filthy, his jeans looking somewhat<br>charred around the seams. He dropped a leaking bag of Chinese  
>food on the table.<br>"Sorry I'm late," he said flatly. "The place was packed. I had  
>to wait."<br>Quinn stared at him. "What the hell happened to you?"  
>"Your boyfriend happened," he said flatly. "He and his<br>brother just renewed my desire to kill them."  
>Nick needed to call home.<br>He didn't want to, but if he didn't show up, Michael would  
>worry.<br>He sat on the end of Adam's bed, staring at Adam's cell  
>phone, while his host banged around in the kitchen, making<br>something he claimed would be better than coffee.  
>Nick almost hoped it would be something better than hard<br>liquor, because he wouldn't mind turning off his thoughts for a  
>while.<br>SECRET 249  
>It was close to ten. He only knew two numbers by heart: the<br>house phone and Gabriel's cell.  
>No contest.<br>The house phone rang four times. With each ring, Nick's  
>heart staggered as he prepared for Gabriel to pick up.<br>Fate smiled on him this time. Chris answered.  
>"It's me," said Nick. "Is Mike around?"<br>"He's out with Hannah." Chris hesitated. "Where are you  
>calling from? Are you okay?"<br>"Did Gabriel get home yet?"  
>"No, why? Where are you?"<br>Nick absolutely hated that his twin brother had been such a  
>dick, but he still felt a flicker of worry about where Gabriel had<br>gone—or what he was doing. "Look—Chris, it's nothing. Can  
>you tell Michael something for me?"<br>"Sure. Whatever you need." Chris hesitated. "Are you sure  
>you're all right?"<br>No. Nick rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to crawl into a bed  
>and sleep for a month. "Will you tell him—" Tell him what?<br>That his twin brother had broken his heart? That he couldn't  
>come home for . . . ever? Nick cleared his throat. "Tell him I'm<br>spending the night with a friend. I accidentally left my phone in  
>the car."<br>Another pause. A weighted one. Chris's voice was low.  
>"Would this friend be Adam?"<br>Nick froze.  
>Chris continued, "That's who sent you the text message at<br>school, right?"  
>At lunch. When he'd flipped out.<br>"Yeah." Nick swallowed. He couldn't read his brother's  
>voice, and after the fight with Gabriel, this uncertainty left him<br>on edge.  
>Chris was silent for a moment, and Nick could imagine him<br>standing there, choosing his words carefully.  
>Nick couldn't handle the silence. "Say something, Chris," he<br>said, more sharply than he intended. "You've obviously figured  
>it out. So say what you want to say."<br>250 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Adam had stopped whatever he was doing in the kitchen, and<br>was now watching Nick from across the apartment.  
>You okay? he mouthed.<br>Nick nodded.  
>And Chris was still silent.<br>"Forget it," said Nick bitterly. "Just tell Michael where I am  
>and that I'm okay."<br>"Wait," said Chris.  
>Nick waited.<br>Chris took a breath. "I'm sorry you thought you had to keep  
>this a secret."<br>The words hit with every bit as much impact as Gabriel's  
>had—but these didn't hurt. In fact, they seemed to absorb some<br>of the earlier blow. Nick didn't know what to say.  
>"It's okay," Chris added. "I mean—with me. You're my<br>brother, and—I want you to be happy, all right?"  
>Nick drew a shaky breath. He was nodding until he realized<br>that was ridiculous and Chris couldn't see him. "All right."  
>"Seriously. You okay?"<br>"Yeah."  
>"What happened to Gabriel? Didn't you go out together?"<br>Nick drew a hand down his face. "I don't really want to talk  
>about it. I only wanted to make sure someone knew where I was."<br>Chris didn't say anything for a moment. "I'll tell Michael."  
>"Thanks." Nick paused. "Hey. How did you know?"<br>"I didn't know for sure. But that day in the cafeteria. When  
>Gabriel was giving you shit about the text message." Chris hesitated.<br>"When you left, you were crying."  
>Damn. "Did anyone else see?"<br>"No one saw. I felt it." Another pause. "It's okay, though. I  
>didn't say anything."<br>He felt it. The tears.  
>Nick almost smiled. "You're a good little brother."<br>"Nah, you caught me on a good day."  
>Now Nick did smile. "I'm glad you were home." He looked<br>up and saw Adam standing by the stove. It looked like he was  
>SECRET 251<br>stirring something. Nick inhaled chocolate and cinnamon. "I  
>should go."<br>"Okay." He paused. "I'm here all night if you need to call  
>back."<br>If Gabriel's actions had shredded his heart, Chris was doing  
>wonders to stitch it back together. "Thanks, Chris."<br>"No problem. I love you, brother." And before Nick could  
>say anything to that, Chris hung up.<br>Nick stared at the phone, touched and bemused. Then he  
>walked out to join Adam in the kitchen.<br>He hesitated at the juncture between carpet and linoleum.  
>This felt like the first night they'd come here, when he wasn't<br>sure what Adam expected. They'd apologized, and Adam had  
>invited him here, but did that mean everything was fine?<br>Adam glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn't stop stirring  
>whatever was in the saucepan on the stove. "Everything<br>okay?"  
>Nick wanted to touch him, to feel some contact that wasn't<br>full of violence and anger. "Yeah. What are you making?"  
>"Hot chocolate with Nutella."<br>"It smells amazing."  
>"It's my guilty pleasure. My mom used to make it when I had<br>a bad day." He tossed another glance over his shoulder. "Don't  
>tell anyone at the studio. I'm supposed to live on lettuce and<br>carrot sticks."  
>"You're worse than Quinn." But now his eyes were on<br>Adam's body, the breadth of his shoulders, the slow movement  
>of his arms as he stirred the pot. The way dark hair curled at the<br>nape of his neck. The softness of his skin, the hardness of the  
>muscles underneath.<br>Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.  
>"I doubt that," said Adam. "Hey, can you pull down some<br>mugs?"  
>Nick couldn't even remember what they were talking about.<br>But Adam's request broke the spell and spurred him into motion.  
>He found the mugs on the second guess, reaching to pull<br>them down from the highest shelf.  
>252 Brigid Kemmerer<br>When Adam's hands came around him from behind, he  
>gasped and almost dropped both mugs.<br>Adam laughed and slid his hands up Nick's chest, moving  
>close until they were almost pressed together. He kissed the back<br>of Nick's neck, breathing along the skin there. "You were making  
>me crazy, standing there like that."<br>He was making Nick crazy, standing there like that. When  
>Adam's hand slid under his shirt, tracing the skin below his rib<br>cage, Nick shivered.  
>"I wasn't sure what you wanted," Nick admitted.<br>Adam froze. The mood in the air changed.  
>Then his hand tightened on Nick's waist roughly, jerking him<br>close. Very close. "Any question now?"  
>Nick blushed so hard he was glad he was looking away. He<br>shook his head.  
>Adam let him go abruptly and took the mugs out of his<br>hands, slamming them onto the counter beside the stove. Any  
>playful banter was gone from his voice. "I think that's part of<br>the problem," he said, killing the heat on the stove. "You're so  
>damn worried about what everyone else wants. Well, you know<br>what, Nick? You're going to disappoint people sometimes. You  
>just are. And you know what else? They're either going to get<br>over it or they're not. If they don't, it sucks. But it's not going to  
>kill them, and it's sure not going to kill you." He poured the hot<br>chocolate into the mugs, then slammed the saucepan back onto  
>a cool burner. "In fact, if you ask me, Gabriel is long overdue<br>for some disappointment."  
>Nick flinched.<br>Adam pulled a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator  
>and shook it like he meant it harm. "You can't live your whole<br>life waiting around to make sure people approve of the choices  
>you make. That's why you've got a drawer full of unopened college<br>letters. That's why you've got a house full of brothers who  
>didn't have a clue about what you wanted. That's why—"<br>Nick shoved him up against the refrigerator and kissed him.  
>Hard.<br>Adam's breath caught, but he kissed him back, matching  
>SECRET 253<br>Nick's intensity. The can of whipped cream hit the floor. Fingers  
>tangled in Nick's hair.<br>Nick caught his wrists and broke the kiss, pinning Adam  
>against the refrigerator with hands and body. He could feel<br>everything, but he wasn't blushing now.  
>Adam's eyes were heavy with desire, but maybe a little fear<br>hid there, too. His breathing came fast, too fast.  
>"I didn't mean to frighten you," Nick said, his voice low. Despite<br>Adam's lecture about doing what he wanted, there were  
>real stakes here. He softened his hold on Adam's wrists and<br>backed off a bit, leaning in to kiss his cheek, the edge of his jaw,  
>using his teeth to nip at the sensitive skin below his ear.<br>Adam's breath shuddered. "I like it," he whispered, so softly  
>that Nick might not have heard him if not for the air carrying<br>the sound to his ears.  
>Nick hesitated, the warm skin of Adam's neck under his lips.<br>"What was that?"  
>When he didn't get an answer, he drew back.<br>The first night Adam brought him here, Nick had followed  
>instincts and pressed Adam down on the couch. Adam had<br>called a stop to it—for understandable reasons—but what had  
>he said?<br>You're strong. I'm not complaining.  
>Nick searched his face. He took a chance. He seized Adam's<br>wrist and dragged him. "Come on."  
>When they made it to the shadowed cavern of Adam's bedroom,<br>Nick didn't hesitate. He shut the door, closing the darkness  
>in around them. Then he grabbed the hem of Adam's shirt<br>and pulled, dragging it over his head.  
>Then he shoved Adam up against the wall and kissed him<br>again, holding nothing back. He let his hands explore, pinning  
>Adam's wrists when he tried to do the same. Letting Adam's<br>breath guide him.  
>When the air whispered of fear again, Nick gentled his touch<br>and leaned close to whisper. "You'll tell me to stop if we get too  
>rough?"<br>"You promise to stop if I say so?"  
>254 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Nick caught his face in his hands and kissed him. "Yes. Yes, I  
>promise. I will never hurt you. I promise."<br>Again, his brain whispered. I will never hurt you again.  
>"Then keep going," said Adam.<br>Nick kept going.  
>And Adam never said stop.<p> 


	27. Chapter 27

Nick woke to sunlight peeking through the blinds and  
>Adam's breath on his neck. A muscled arm lay across his<br>bare chest. The air was full of warmth and comfort and satisfaction.  
>He didn't want to move.<br>But he was going to have to.  
>He eased out from under that arm, sliding across the sheets as<br>silently as he was able. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and  
>closed himself in the bathroom, begging the air to trap any noise<br>in here with him.  
>Nick wished for a toothbrush and a razor, but made do with<br>a capful of Scope, splashing cold water on his face for good  
>measure.<br>Then he studied himself in the mirror. His hair stood up in  
>tufts, and he ran a hand through it, trying to make it less of a<br>mess. Useless. His cheek sported the bare remnants of a bruise  
>that would probably disappear altogether by tomorrow.<br>Looking at his face made him think of his twin brother. He  
>needed to get the hell out of this bathroom.<br>Nick eased the door open and found Adam still asleep, in exactly  
>the same position he'd left him. Soft, even breathing, unruly<br>hair drifting across his forehead. Nick wanted to curl up  
>next to him and watch him sleep, but he didn't want to live up<br>to the creepy freak moniker that closely.  
>Nick snatched his T-shirt from the corner and padded out of<br>the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him.  
>The clock on Adam's microwave revealed that it was barely<br>past seven—still early, especially on a Saturday. And now that  
>he was out here, he wasn't sure what to do. No phone, no car—<br>not that he had anywhere to go. No television, even.  
>He made himself useful and poured out the abandoned mugs<br>from last night, filling them with water to soak in the sink along  
>with the saucepan. Then he poked around long enough to find<br>coffee filters and a bag of grounds. He worried that his banging  
>around would wake Adam, but the air still felt heavy with sleep.<br>And now that the brewer was dripping, Nick felt awkward,  
>like maybe he shouldn't be out here alone. What if Adam didn't<br>want him rifling through his things? What if he didn't want coffee?  
>What if he didn't—<br>Nick mentally smacked himself. He needed to turn his brain off.  
>But he couldn't shake the uncertainty, so he stepped through<br>the sliding door onto Adam's back patio. The air was just this  
>side of too cool, but Nick didn't mind the bite against his skin.<br>The rear of Adam's apartment building faced a drainage pond  
>surrounded by a split rail fence, backed by a row of pine trees. A<br>fine mist clung to the grass, hanging over the pond and offering  
>an ethereal quality to the morning. A road ran along the other<br>side of those trees, but it must have been too early for much  
>traffic.<br>Nick dropped onto the edge of the concrete porch, putting  
>his feet in the grass. Dew grabbed his feet immediately. He inhaled,<br>letting the air draw threads of power to make the fog  
>drift and sway.<br>And of course, memories snuck up to sucker-punch him.  
>Gabriel standing in front of the café, fierce and terrifying, his<br>eyes dark and his hands in fists. You don't have to hold him.  
>Nick will stay down.<br>Such a contrast to what had happened before: Gabriel's eyes,  
>SECRET 257<br>tense and worried when Nick woke up in the woods. Come on,  
>Nicky. You're scaring me.<br>Or two weeks ago, when Nick had found his twin crouched  
>in the woods behind the house, dry-heaving against a tree and<br>clutching a broken hand. Gabriel had thought his abilities had  
>started a fire. He'd worried he'd killed his girlfriend. He'd been<br>desperate and broken and sobbing, unable to carry the weight  
>of his secrets any longer.<br>Nick had brought him into the house and cleaned him up.  
>And this was how Gabriel acted in return. With mockery.<br>And anger.  
>And violence.<br>Nick expected to feel fury, or maybe sadness. All he felt was  
>the gaping cold emptiness of resignation.<br>Because really, wasn't this what he'd expected all along?  
>He knew he couldn't stay here forever, but he wasn't exactly<br>sure how he could go home, either. What if Gabriel apologized?  
>Could Nick forgive him? Would he believe him?<br>What if he didn't apologize? That seemed more likely. And  
>Nick was supposed to live with that? Sleep in the same house<br>with someone who'd gone from love to hate in less time than it  
>would take him to change clothes?<br>Nick rubbed at his eyes. He folded his arms across his knees  
>and rested his forehead against them, breathing in the power the<br>air offered.  
>You're safe here.<br>The door slid open. Maybe the air simply reacted to Nick's  
>emotion, but the atmosphere practically cheered when Adam<br>stepped onto the patio.  
>Yay, Adam!<br>Nick couldn't keep the smile off his face, so he didn't turn  
>around. He peeked over his shoulder. "Hey."<br>Adam dropped onto the concrete beside him, close enough  
>that Nick could feel the warmth from his body—but far enough<br>that they weren't touching.  
>"Hey, yourself," said Adam. "Thanks for starting coffee."<br>He held out a mug.  
>258 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Nick took it, wrapping his hands around the ceramic. He  
>suddenly felt shy, but somehow more self-assured at the same<br>time. "I didn't mean to wake you."  
>"Yes, you were very loud sitting out here with your feet in the<br>grass. You do realize I have chairs . . . ?"  
>Nick nodded. "I know." Adam's legs stretched out in the<br>grass, too, one hand holding his own mug of coffee, the other  
>resting on his thigh.<br>Nick hesitated. Then he reached out, threaded their fingers  
>together, and lifted their joined hands to kiss Adam's knuckles.<br>Nick's eyes met Adam's brown ones. He'd never felt this way  
>before, like he'd found something precious and fragile that<br>could be taken away. It left him giddy and anxious. Fiercely protective.  
>Adam smiled. "That look is worth waking up alone."<br>Nick blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry. I was trying to let  
>you sleep."<br>"Sleep is overrated." Now Adam shifted closer, eliminating  
>any space between them. He pressed his lips to Nick's neck,<br>abandoning his cup of coffee to stroke his free hand up Nick's  
>chest.<br>Nick sighed and closed his eyes. He totally should have  
>stayed in bed.<br>He left his own mug on the concrete to stroke his hand  
>through Adam's silky dark hair, tracing a finger down the length<br>of his dusky chin.  
>"Where are you from?" he asked without thinking.<br>Adam laughed softly and straightened. He reclaimed his coffee,  
>but he remained sitting just as close. "Annapolis."<br>Nick winced and shook his head. "No—I meant—"  
>"I know what you meant." He hesitated. "My father is from<br>Morocco, and my mother is from Brazil."  
>There was a lot of weight in that hesitation, and Nick proceeded<br>carefully. "I'm thinking there's a story there."  
>"Hmm. Not really. He came here because he couldn't find<br>paying work as a doctor in Morocco. Their economy was crap.  
>She was a student at Johns Hopkins. They met three weeks be-<br>SECRET 259  
>fore her visa expired." He gave Nick a wry look. "She tells<br>everyone she married him for the green card."  
>Nick smiled. "I have a feeling I'd like your mother."<br>And as soon as he said the words, he realized he was wondering  
>about meeting Adam's parents, and the thought struck a<br>bolt of nerves into his chest.  
>Now he understood how Michael had felt Thursday night.<br>"She's very opinionated," said Adam. "Likes to rant in Portuguese  
>because it makes my father nuts."<br>Nick's eyebrows went up. Just when he thought Adam couldn't  
>get hotter. "Do you speak Portuguese?"<br>"More than I'll admit. Less than I should. My father grew up  
>speaking Berber—it's like Arabic—but I barely know any of<br>that. He wanted to lose his accent because he thought he'd get  
>better work that way, so he hardly speaks it at all now. Most<br>people can't even tell he wasn't born here."  
>A new note, something close to bitterness, had crept into<br>Adam's voice. Nick frowned and wondered if he'd made a misstep  
>by opening this line of conversation.<br>Adam shrugged a little. "He totally bought into the American  
>dream of capitalism and baseball and apple pie—only to end up<br>with a Brazilian wife and a gay dancer for a son."  
>Adam's father hid who he was. Then he'd asked Adam to<br>hide who he was.  
>Nick wondered what his own father would have thought.<br>While he felt certain his mother would have understood him—  
>would have supported him, even—he had no idea how his father<br>would have reacted. Michael had gotten into it with their  
>father more than once, but never over something like this.<br>Nick stroked a hand across Adam's face. "Do they ever come  
>to watch you dance?"<br>"Nah. Not really anymore. Honestly, I think my dad secretly  
>hopes I'll outgrow it one day."<br>"I think your dad should take a second look at how lucky he is."  
>Adam laughed, but not like it was funny. "You know, if I<br>wanted to do pretty much anything else with my life, I wouldn't  
>need a scholarship. If I called him up and said I wanted to be an<br>260 Brigid Kemmerer  
>accountant, he'd be drafting a check to the college of my<br>choice."  
>Nick thought of all those college letters sitting in his desk at<br>home and felt a flash of guilt. "I'm sorry."  
>"Don't be sorry." Adam almost gave him a smile. "It'll mean<br>more if I do it myself." He pressed his face into the curve of  
>Nick's neck again. "Your turn."<br>"My turn?"  
>"Tell me something uncomfortable about your family."<br>"I'm pretty sure you witnessed something uncomfortable last  
>night." Nick paused, tracing a finger along the stretch of Adam's<br>forearm.  
>"Tell me something good then. Tell me something good about<br>your brother."  
>The words summoned too many memories. Nick couldn't<br>sort through them all. Setting fires on the beach, Gabriel using  
>his power to send the flames coursing high into the air, Nick<br>leeching oxygen from the atmosphere to help him maintain control.  
>Hiding from Michael after putting spiders in his bed or<br>peanut butter in his backpack or paint in his shampoo bottle.  
>Gabriel knowing every single time Nick was worried or hurting<br>or just plain needed him.  
>"We used to trade places all the time. He loves sports, and I . . .<br>well, I really looked for any reason to stay the hell out of a locker  
>room, so he pretended to be me so he could play more sports. The<br>school limits you to two, so . . ." Nick shrugged.  
>"Hmm. And what did you do while you were pretending to<br>be him?"  
>Nick snorted. "His math homework." As soon as he said it, he<br>realized Adam was going to misunderstand. "Not like you think.  
>When our parents died, he couldn't keep up. I started doing it to<br>help him, just so he wouldn't be held back. It became . . . like . . .  
>a thing. He believed he couldn't do it, and I wanted to do that for<br>him. To be there for him. To—" He made a disgusted noise. "This  
>is stupid."<br>"No. It's not." Adam leaned into him again. "What does he  
>do for you?"<br>SECRET 261  
>"I don't—it's not—" Nick pressed his fingers into his eyes.<br>"Everything."  
>He kept hearing Hunter's words on the steps. I'm not his best<br>friend, Nick. You are.  
>Nick realized he didn't even know if his brother had made it<br>home okay.  
>He hated that Gabriel had monumentally fucked up, but he<br>was still sitting here worried about him. "Can I use your phone  
>again?"<br>Adam sat up and shifted to pull it out of his pocket. He held  
>it out without a word.<br>Nick called the house phone. The line rang half a dozen  
>times.<br>Maybe Gabriel had been hurt. Maybe they were all out looking  
>for him. Nick remembered sensing someone in the woods<br>near the house the other night—had he mentioned that to  
>Michael? He couldn't remember. He'd been stupid to go out of<br>touch for so long. His world could be crumbling right this very  
>second, while he was sitting on Adam's back porch, completely<br>out of reach.  
>Nick felt his heart pound against his rib cage, chastising him<br>with each beat. He'd let his brother drive off in a fury. God only  
>knew what he could have gotten into.<br>Tyler. Had Gabriel gone after Tyler? If something had happened,  
>would Chris have thought to find Adam's number on the<br>caller ID last night?  
>Maybe—<br>The phone clicked as someone picked up. "Merrick Landscaping."  
>Gabriel. Nick almost dropped the phone.<br>He didn't know what to say.  
>The line filled with silence for the longest time.<br>Then Gabriel said, "Nicky."  
>Not a question. He knew. Nick couldn't read anything from<br>his voice. He still didn't know what to say.  
>And his brother wasn't filling the silence, either.<br>262 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Finally Nick cleared his throat. "I just wanted to be sure you<br>made it home."  
>Then, before Gabriel could say anything to that, Nick pushed<br>the button to disconnect the call. He all but shoved the phone  
>back at Adam.<br>They sat there in silence for a few beats.  
>Then Adam held the phone out. The display was lit up with<br>an incoming call.  
>Gabriel was calling back.<br>"Do you want to talk to him?" said Adam.  
>"No." His heart was still working double time.<br>He expected Adam to press the button to refuse the call, but  
>he answered it, putting the phone to his ear and saying "Hello?"<br>before Nick fully comprehended what he was doing.  
>Nick sat there and stared, torn between grabbing the phone<br>to disconnect the call, and sitting in morbid fascination about  
>what Adam would say.<br>Adam drew his knees up and rested an arm against them. His  
>voice was low, quiet and confident. "He doesn't want to talk to<br>you right now." A long pause, then he said evenly, "I told you,  
>he doesn't want to talk to you. Maybe you didn't understand me<br>since I wasn't thpeaking in thtereotypes."  
>Nick snorted with laughter before he could help it, and had<br>to slap a hand over his mouth. It was nervous laughter more  
>than anything. His eyes were wide. No one ever talked to<br>Gabriel like that.  
>Then Adam sighed and spoke into the phone. "Guess what,<br>sunshine? It's not about what you want. I'll tell him you called,  
>okay?"<br>He didn't wait for an answer. He disconnected the call.  
>This time, the phone stayed silent.<br>Adam looked at him. "He wants to talk to you. That's all he  
>said."<br>Not I'm sorry.  
>Nick's emotions weren't sure how to process that information.<br>SECRET 263  
>Adam set the phone on the concrete. "Why did you want to<br>call him?"  
>"I just wanted to make sure he got home." Nick stared out at<br>the dissipating fog. "I was going to tell him. Last night. That's  
>why we were at the coffee shop." He glanced over at Adam. "I<br>keep wondering if it would have turned out any differently."  
>"You mean, if he would have hit you either way?"<br>Nick nodded.  
>Adam shifted across the concrete to sit beside him again.<br>"Look, I'm not going to defend your brother. I know he hurt  
>you." His voice softened. "I know he hurt you a lot. But when<br>he came after me, I don't think it had anything to do with me  
>being gay, and everything to do with protecting you. On the<br>phone just now, he wasn't an asshole, either. And he could have  
>been."<br>"Do you think I should call him back?"  
>"Do you want to?"<br>Nick thought about it. He imagined his twin brother standing  
>in the kitchen, deliberating whether to call a third time. Nick<br>wished he could put everything back the way it had been.  
>Then he glanced at Adam and realized that wasn't true.<br>He shook his head. "No, I don't want to talk to him. Not yet."  
>"Okay." Adam took another sip of coffee. He laced the fingers<br>of his free hand through Nick's again, and they sat there for  
>the longest time, watching the mist thin and swirl.<br>Nick hadn't realized how easy this could be, sitting with  
>someone who wasn't judging him. Who wasn't piling expectations<br>on him.  
>Adam's phone chimed again, and Nick's pulse jumped. He<br>should have known it wouldn't last for long.  
>But Adam smiled. "Well, look at that," he said. "Quinn<br>wants to know if we're still on for dance this afternoon."  
>Nick hadn't realized how worried he'd been about Quinn<br>until that very moment. She was okay. She had to be okay if she  
>was sending a text about dance.<br>Adam was texting back, talking while his fingers slid across  
>264 Brigid Kemmerer<br>the face of the phone. "Studio classes end at one, so I can meet  
>her after lunch. Want to join me?"<br>Nick looked away. "She probably doesn't want to see me."  
>Adam poked him. "What do you want?"<br>"I want . . ." Nick paused, feeling weight in the words. His  
>brothers were probably cursing him this morning, because Saturdays<br>meant large landscaping jobs, and Nick knew Michael  
>had blown one off last night. Quinn definitely didn't want to see<br>him at practice.  
>But his words were hanging out there. I want.<br>Such a stupid, simple phrase, but it felt so foreign.  
>"You want . . . ?" prompted Adam.<br>"I want to go with you," he said, the words a jumbled rush  
>that came out too quiet, completely uncertain.<br>Adam poked him again, harder. He was smiling. "What was  
>that?"<br>Nick leaned into him and said, "I want to go with you."  
>Another poke. "I can't hear y—"<br>Nick trapped those words with a kiss. "I want to go with  
>you." Another kiss. "And if you'd shut up a second, maybe I<br>could tell you what else I want."


	28. Chapter 28

Quinn leaned against the window of Tyler's truck and closed  
>her eyes, content.<br>She'd slept all night.  
>She'd taken a shower unimpeded.<br>No social workers or cops had shown up to break down the  
>door or whatever they did in real life.<br>Her younger brother had responded to texts that yes, he was  
>fine.<br>And Tyler was driving her to dance.  
>It had been his idea for her to go.<br>Actually, he'd narrowed his eyes at her over toast and orange  
>juice and said, "Aren't you supposed to be rehearsing for some<br>scholarship thing?"  
>And she'd mumbled and made excuses until he'd all but sent<br>the text to Adam himself.  
>Tyler was having none of her self-pity. He kept whispering to<br>her, seeming to know every time self-doubts crept into her head  
>to set up camp. "You're not worthless," he'd murmur, when she<br>started thinking that maybe it was her fault that her brother had  
>started smoking crack on her bedroom floor. Or, "You are<br>brave," when thoughts snuck up to talk her out of ever leaving  
>his apartment.<br>But her favorite was "You are special," whispered while  
>dropping a chaste kiss on the back of her neck, stroking her hair<br>down her back before moving away.  
>After going to sleep on a declaration of wanting to kill Nick<br>Merrick, she hadn't realized Tyler would wake up with a mouth  
>full of Hallmark platitudes.<br>She loved this side of him, this gentle, thoughtful side. She  
>suspected he didn't reveal it often, or to many people.<br>The funny thing was, if Tyler and Nick weren't mortal enemies,  
>she could see them becoming friends.<br>"What time are you going to pick me up?" she asked.  
>"Are you kidding?" He glanced over. "I'm planning on<br>staying."  
>"Come on," she said. "You don't have to do that. It's not like<br>you're getting any action from m—"  
>Tyler put a hand over her mouth. "I'm going to pretend you<br>didn't just say that. I told you before: I thought your dance was  
>pretty good, from what I saw on the trail. I'd like to see it all put<br>together."  
>"Come on. You want to spend a few hours at a dance studio?"<br>"It's been a dream of mine." He glanced over and offered a  
>wicked smile. "All right, brutal honesty: I brought my laptop. I<br>have a paper due in history."  
>The dance studio parking lot didn't sport many cars; no surprise<br>on a Saturday afternoon. This was Quinn's favorite time to  
>dance: when the sunlight would be warm through the windows,<br>and energy from the morning classes would still cling to the air  
>in the room, and she'd move as if a thousand dancers accompanied<br>her.  
>Her home life seemed miles away. Right where she wanted it.<br>At the door she stopped and faced Tyler. "Hey," she said quietly.  
>"Thanks for bringing me here."<br>"You're welcome."  
>She pressed her lips together for a second. "No," she said.<br>"All of it. Thanks for all of it."  
>He winced and looked away. "Not all of it." He paused and<br>let his eyes find hers. "I'm sorry for some of it. For a lot of it."  
>SECRET 267<br>The sunlight glinted off his hair. Tall and blond and strong—  
>he looked like the proverbial white knight. All he needed was a<br>suit of armor.  
>She kept her voice low, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.<br>"You're special, too, Tyler. And brave. And definitely not  
>worthless."<br>His eyes widened fractionally, enough that Quinn knew she'd  
>affected him.<br>"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll keep all that a secret."  
>He rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle.<br>Then they were through the door and face to face with Nick  
>Merrick.<br>Quinn sat on the polished wood floor, stretching beside the  
>mirror, watching Adam to follow his warm-up. They didn't<br>have the studio to themselves yet, so they'd have to wait to use  
>the main area of floor. She didn't mind the extra time—two days<br>off had left her muscles tight. She folded low, reaching for her  
>ankle, catching sight of Nick and Tyler in the mirror. They sat<br>across the room on the wood risers, a good six feet apart, not  
>speaking.<br>Waves of hatred radiated from them both.  
>When they'd first walked in, Nick had told Tyler to leave.<br>Tyler had told Nick to go to hell.  
>Adam had told them both to grow up or get out. He'd done it<br>in the same voice she'd heard him use on the six-year-olds when  
>they got rowdy in the beginner class. Half teasing, half serious.<br>Nick had backed off and found a spot on the risers. He  
>hadn't looked happy about it then, and he looked downright<br>furious now.  
>But to her surprise, Tyler had apologized to Adam, shaking<br>his hand before finding his own place to sit and watch.  
>Adam switched legs and Quinn snapped back to the task at<br>hand. She moved to mirror his motion.  
>"How long do you think we have before they kill each<br>other?" Adam said under his breath.  
>268 Brigid Kemmerer<br>His voice was easy, casual. She was glad—a small part of her  
>had worried that he'd hold her recent no-shows against her.<br>"Nick hates him," Quinn said. She hadn't realized Nick  
>would be here at all or she would've told Tyler to go elsewhere.<br>She felt like she was straddling this ravine between taking joy in  
>Nick's discomfort and hating that she'd caused it.<br>"I can see that." Adam paused. "He was really worried that  
>you were dating him."<br>"We're not—" She faltered. Were she and Tyler dating? Were  
>they friends? "I don't know what we're doing."<br>Adam put the soles of his feet together and folded low. "Is he  
>being good to you?"<br>True concern was behind those words, another reminder that  
>Quinn had spent too much time pushing away people who<br>could have helped her. She nodded, thinking of Tyler's whispered  
>comments all morning. Then she gave Adam a wicked<br>smile. "Is Nick being good to you?"  
>Adam blushed. For real.<br>Quinn grinned and realized there might be a reason behind  
>Nick's being here. "Holy crap. Did you guys spend the night together?"<br>"Shh!" Adam reached out and smacked her on the top of the  
>head.<br>"Did you?!"  
>He turned it right back around on her. "Did you spend the<br>night with Tyler?"  
>"Yeah, in his guest room." She hesitated, thinking of how<br>Tyler's evening had gone. "He's being a gentleman. And he didn't  
>have the greatest night."<br>"Neither did Nick. He came out to his brother and got  
>punched in the face."<br>Quinn sat up straight. She glanced at Nick and lost every  
>ounce of vindictive joy. Now she wanted to kill his twin brother.<br>"Gabriel hit him?" she whispered. "Are you serious?"  
>"Yeah. He didn't want to go home."<br>Quinn couldn't blame him. "I wish I'd known," she said. "I  
>wish he'd called me."<br>SECRET 269  
>Then the irony of her own words smacked her in the face.<br>Nick would probably be saying the same thing about her problems,  
>if he knew.<br>She glanced across at where Nick and Tyler were sitting.  
>They didn't seem to be speaking. Had Tyler moved closer? She<br>couldn't tell. Nick almost vibrated with angry tension.  
>"I think I saw the last text you sent him," said Adam, his<br>voice easy, his words not. "I'm pretty sure it said fuck off."  
>Quinn flushed as guilt punched her in the back. "Yeah—I'm<br>not—I didn't—"  
>New stretch, hands overhead, then lowering to reach for outstretched<br>toes. "You don't have to explain it to me."  
>She didn't follow this stretch. "I was jealous," she said quietly.<br>Adam straightened and looked at her. "Of what?"  
>She looked away. "Of you. I guess." She swallowed and felt<br>tears gathering behind her eyes. "And then Nick was telling me  
>to stay away from Tyler, and I thought it was so unfair, how he<br>got everything and I had to just sit there and pretend to be his  
>girlfriend, and—"<br>"Quinn." Adam's voice was low, quiet. He moved close.  
>"Quinn, he shouldn't have asked you to—"<br>"He didn't! That's the pathetic thing. He never asked me to.  
>He even encouraged me to find someone else. But I didn't want<br>someone else. I wanted . . ."  
>"Him."<br>Quinn nodded and looked up. "I'm sorry."  
>"Don't be sorry." He gave her half a smile. "I mean, I kinda<br>get it."  
>"Are you mad at me?"<br>"No." He paused. "I wish you'd told me. Is that why you  
>didn't come to dance?"<br>She bit her lip. "That's part of it."  
>"What's the other part?"<br>She took a deep breath until she was sure her voice wouldn't  
>shake. "My mother—she threw me out."<br>270 Brigid Kemmerer  
>His face fell. "I wish you'd told me that, too. You could have<br>stayed with me."  
>She wagged her eyebrows at him. "Sounds like your apartment<br>is kind of crowded."  
>"Don't do that. Don't joke. Are you okay? Do you have a<br>place to stay?"  
>She hedged, worrying that if the wrong person overheard her,<br>they'd call social services or something. This paranoia was  
>ridiculous, but she'd rather sleep on a street corner than be<br>forced into a group home or wherever they'd shove her. "I'm  
>staying with Tyler right now. I'm just waiting out my mother."<br>She made her voice casual, easy. "She needs a few days to dry  
>out is all, and she'll forget what happened."<br>Or maybe she'd throw out Jake's trophies.  
>Adam was still studying her.<br>Quinn moved into another stretch, hoping he'd take this as a  
>cue to change the subject. "I'm fine," she said. "Really. I'm<br>fine." Motion in the mirror caught her eye. Tyler had definitely  
>moved closer to Nick.<br>She'd taken Tyler at his word when he'd said Nick had  
>picked a fight Friday night, but now, watching them, it made<br>her wonder. Tyler had compared Nick's abilities to a rogue lion.  
>Had he poked the lion with a stick, just to watch it break out<br>the fangs?  
>With a flash of guilt, she remembered Nick's fear in his driveway.<br>He'd hidden it under a layer of self-defense and aggression,  
>but she'd seen it.<br>She was seeing it now.  
>Adam glanced over. "Nick said their families are fighting."<br>"He told you that?"  
>A nod. "That's why he didn't want you seeing Tyler."<br>"That's not all of it," she said. "I think Tyler used to beat the  
>shit out of him when he was younger."<br>Adam froze. "He didn't tell me that."  
>"He barely told me. I had to drag it out of him. I almost didn't<br>believe him. I mean, you look at Nick and you'd think anyone  
>would be an idiot to pick a fight with him, but—"<br>SECRET 271  
>"It doesn't matter what it looks like," Adam snapped. "All<br>that matters is what it really is."  
>"I know," she said quietly. She hesitated. "Tyler isn't a bad<br>guy, either, Adam."  
>Adam glanced at where Nick and Tyler were sitting. "I hope<br>you're right, Quinn. I really hope you're right."  
>Nick wondered if he could suffocate Tyler right here and get<br>away with it.  
>At least it would make this douche bag shut up.<br>"Your boyfriend looks pissed," Tyler whispered, his voice so  
>low that Nick wouldn't have heard him if the air weren't so willing<br>to carry the words to his ears. "Think he's jealous?"  
>Nick didn't respond. The rest of the studio had cleared out,<br>and they had the risers to themselves. Adam and Quinn were  
>dancing now, their movements full of passion and strength. But<br>Tyler was right: Adam did look pissed every time he glanced at  
>where they were sitting.<br>He couldn't possibly be jealous of Tyler. Right?  
>But why else would he be pissed off? Had Quinn said something?<br>What?  
>Nick hated that this dickhead was sitting here putting<br>thoughts in his head.  
>Part of him wanted to leave. He could sit outside, or even<br>take the bus back to Adam's. Hell, he could take the bus home if  
>he needed to—Adam had explained the line and given him a bus<br>schedule, telling him which spot would drop him off closest to  
>Chautauga if he really needed to help his brothers with a job.<br>But he'd finally broken and called home before coming here,  
>hoping he'd get someone other than Gabriel.<br>By luck—or his twin's calculated avoidance, he wasn't sure  
>which—Michael had answered the phone. Chris had agreed to<br>work for Nick today. Hunter had already been planning on  
>going with Becca to visit her father. Gabriel would be home<br>alone with a pile of textbooks.  
>Pretty much a guarantee that Nick wouldn't be getting on a<br>bus anytime soon.  
>272 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Then again, sitting next to Tyler was quite possibly the only  
>thing worse than facing his twin again.<br>Tyler shifted closer. "No wonder you could never fight back.  
>I didn't realize Gabriel Merrick had a twin sister—"<br>"Shut up," Nick said.  
>"Or what? You'll huff and you'll puff and you'll blow this<br>place down? Or do you only know how to blow—"  
>"Shut up." Nick glared at him and didn't bother keeping his<br>voice down. "Fuck you, Tyler. You might have Quinn fooled,  
>but I know what you've done. Michael might give you a free<br>pass because you lost your sister and he feels some shred of responsibility  
>for it, but—"<br>"Don't you dare talk about my sister."  
>"You think losing someone gives you a free pass to be a raging<br>asshole? It doesn't. You're not the only person who knows  
>loss."<br>He'd hit a nerve. Tyler was breathing heavily now, his fists  
>clenched. "Shut up, Merrick."<br>"No, you shut up. You want to hate us because of what we  
>are? Fine. Hate us. Punch me, burn me, call the Guides, whatever.<br>But I know the truth. I know what you are. I know what  
>you can do."<br>"You don't know anything."  
>Nick knew Tyler was a breath away from snapping, but he<br>couldn't stop. Standing up to Gabriel had changed something in  
>him. For the better, for the worse, he had no idea. But just like<br>Adam poking him in the side this morning, demanding to know  
>what Nick wanted, Tyler's presence was like a constant jab, over<br>and over again.  
>And Nick wanted. It. To stop.<br>He leaned forward, holding Tyler's gaze. "I know you're  
>probably scared to death that the wrong person is going to find<br>out you're just as cursed as the big, bad Merricks. Guess it'd be  
>pretty hard to cry to Mommy and Daddy, then, huh? Or do you<br>think they'd pull the trigger themselves? God knows they've  
>been dying to do it to us for years."<br>"I've never killed anyone," Tyler hissed.  
>SECRET 273<br>"How do we know?" said Nick. "It's not like you don't  
>spend every waking moment consumed by hate. God, for all we<br>know, you could have been behind the fire at Seth Ramsey's—"  
>Nick broke off and stopped short. "Holy shit."<br>The fire at Seth Ramsey's. Five years ago. It had killed Seth's  
>parents.<br>And Nick's.  
>"Shut up!" Tyler yelled. His eyes were wide and panicked, his<br>expression fierce. "Shut the fuck up, Merrick. I didn't start that  
>fire."<br>Nick almost couldn't breathe. He couldn't even identify this  
>emotion. Rage. Bewilderment. Shock. Sorrow, all over again. "It<br>was you. You started it. Not Gabriel."  
>"Wrong," said Tyler. He was shaking his head fiercely.<br>"Wrong."  
>"I'm not wrong. It was you."<br>"It was both of us," he cried. "Don't you get it? Just like last  
>night. It was both."<br>Nick stared at him.  
>Tyler climbed down from the risers. He headed for the door.<br>Quinn and Adam had gone still in the middle of the dance  
>floor. Nick had no idea how long they'd been watching.<br>Quinn glanced between Nick and Tyler, and finally ran after  
>Tyler. The front door to the studio slammed.<br>It left Nick reeling, unsure where his emotions wanted to  
>settle.<br>He was very aware of Adam's eyes still on him.  
>Nick looked at him. He couldn't speak. He wasn't sure what<br>he would say.  
>"So," Adam said. His expression was some amalgamation of<br>curiosity, pity, and resignation. "More secrets, huh?"


	29. Chapter 29

Quinn caught up to Tyler in the parking lot. There were only  
>two vehicles left: his truck, and a black sedan across the lot<br>that some parent must have left here to come back for later. She  
>grabbed Tyler's arm before he could jump in his truck and take<br>off.  
>She expected him to spin in a rage and shove her away, but he<br>didn't. He just stopped. He didn't look at her.  
>"Are you okay?" she said softly.<br>"No." His voice sounded thick.  
>"Is what he said true?" she said. "The fire that killed his parents—<br>did you—"  
>"I don't know." He turned to look at her, and where she expected<br>to find rage and fury, his expression only offered torment.  
>"I don't know, Quinn. I was sixteen years old. My sister<br>was dead. I hated Michael Merrick with everything. I don't—"  
>His voice broke, but he caught it. "Gabriel Merrick hated us,<br>too. They all did. I don't know for sure which one of us started  
>it. But I know I wasn't the only one. I didn't have that kind of<br>power, the way the whole house went up in a flash. Not then."  
>"But . . . but you've called the Guides against the Merricks.<br>You've tried to have them killed. You stood in your kitchen and  
>told me you've never hurt anyone with your power. What was<br>that about?"  
>Now she got the fury. "What was I supposed to do?" he<br>snapped. "My parents wanted to kill them for what they'd done  
>to Emily. Was I supposed to stand up and say, 'Guess what,<br>guys. I'm one, too! Let's get cake.' Do you have any idea what it  
>was like for me, knowing what I was, knowing my parents were<br>calling the Guides to come to town to kill off the true Elementals?  
>Knowing I might have played a part in killing my best<br>friend's parents? Do you have any idea?"  
>"No." She wet her lips. "I don't." She paused. "But you kept<br>hurting them. You kept going after them. You went after Becca!  
>You kept—"<br>"Because I had to!" he exploded. "Because that's what everyone  
>expected! Don't you get it? They killed my sister. Everyone<br>thought they killed Seth's parents. I had to hate them."  
>"Or else everyone would have hated you."<br>A cool wind whipped through the parking lot, reminding her  
>of Nick. Tyler's breathing was heavy.<br>"Yeah," he finally said.  
>She couldn't reconcile this in her head. The sweet things he'd<br>whispered to her this morning, the way he'd helped her with her  
>own insane family, the way he'd gotten in her face and made her<br>confront her own fears about herself.  
>And then this . . . this hate borne of nothing but selfish fear.<br>"You could stop it," she said. "You could just . . . stop."  
>"I can't. Quinn, you don't—"<br>"Didn't you pin me against your bathroom wall and tell me  
>to stop pushing people away? That people would help me if I'd<br>give them the chance? The sad, sorry truth is that the Merricks  
>would probably help you if you weren't so determined to be an<br>asshole."  
>"I don't want their help, Quinn."<br>"So you're just going to keep on being ignorant . . . why, exactly?"  
>The sarcasm was out before she could stop it. Tyler's face<br>shut down, chasing away any emotion. "You don't understand.  
>This isn't me being ignorant. This is me trying to stay alive."<br>"Just like they are."  
>276 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"I can't argue this with you, Quinn." His breathing staggered.  
>"Not now. Not—not now."<br>She took a step back. "Then go."  
>He stared down at her.<br>Then he turned and climbed into his vehicle. He started the  
>engine, but didn't shut the door. He inhaled like he was going to<br>ask her for another chance.  
>She took another step back. "Go. I'm not coming with<br>you. Go."  
>A muscle in his jaw twitched. Quinn looked away.<br>She expected him to beg her to climb in with him, to make  
>more excuses, to apologize, to break down and give in.<br>He didn't.  
>"Fine," he said.<br>Tyler slammed the door and backed out of his parking place,  
>spraying gravel when he turned onto the main road.<br>Quinn was still standing there, watching the dust settle, when  
>a dark-haired man climbed out of the black sedan and approached<br>her. He was young, mid to late twenties, maybe, with  
>dark eyes and very average features. He wore a sport coat and<br>khakis. If she saw him on the street, she probably wouldn't give  
>him a second glance. He looked like every other daddy of a<br>three-year-old in a tutu.  
>Maybe he'd seen their argument and he wanted to make sure<br>she was all right.  
>He said, "Quinn Briscoe?"<br>She frowned. "Yes?"  
>Then she kicked herself. What if this guy was a social<br>worker? Or a cop? Wasn't this how it happened? They cornered  
>you somewhere and made you give your name—<br>"I was wondering if you could help me for a moment," he  
>said.<br>Sure. Maybe he was legit, or maybe he was a crazy rapist  
>who would take her back to his commune.<br>But at least that didn't sound like the way a social worker  
>would lead off. "Yeah, what kind of help do you need?"<br>SECRET 277  
>"My name is Gareth." He pulled out a gun and put it right in<br>her face. "And you're going to help me kill Nick Merrick."  
>Nick felt Quinn's flare of panic in the air like a bright starburst<br>in his senses, amplified when the door to the studio swung  
>open, sending the chimes ringing through the near empty space.<br>He grabbed Adam's arm and dragged him to the opposite  
>side of the risers.<br>Adam inhaled to speak, but Nick got an arm around his neck  
>and slapped a hand over his mouth.<br>"Be still," Nick said, his mouth right against Adam's ear.  
>"Please. Be still."<br>Adam went still.  
>Nick hadn't had time to tell him much about his family, and<br>he definitely hadn't gotten to the part where someone might be  
>trying to kill them.<br>Quinn was silent, but her fear was a beacon, her shaking  
>breath giving him information with every passing second. Footsteps<br>approached, slow and steady on the wooden floors.  
>He could also feel whoever was frightening her. Even breaths,<br>pure confidence. There had to be a weapon of some sort, for  
>Quinn to be this pliant.<br>"See?" she said loudly. "They're gone already."  
>Please, Quinn, Nick thought. Please don't be stupid. He tried<br>not to think of Michael's stories of what Silver had done to  
>Hunter's girlfriend Kate. The torture, the final bullet to the<br>head.  
>Was this Silver? Had he escaped from prison?<br>He begged the air for answers, stretching his senses far.  
>"They're here," said a male voice.<br>Adam went very still. He held his breath.  
>"Come on out," said the man. No British accent. Not Silver.<br>But definitely a Guide.  
>Nick didn't move. There had to be a way out of this.<br>Had to be.  
>He tried not to think of his brothers. Had this guy gone after<br>them first? Were his brothers dead and he didn't know it?  
>278 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Not likely, if they were all together.  
>Then he remembered his conversation with Michael. They<br>were scattered. That could mean anything.  
>And not just scattered. Scattered remotely. Gabriel would be<br>home alone—with no Nick to warn of danger approaching.  
>Chris and Michael were working a job, and if they were finishing<br>the one Nick and Michael had skipped last night, it was a  
>massive yard away from any other houses. Sitting ducks.<br>Hell, if the Guide took out Nick and Gabriel, he wouldn't  
>even have to go looking for Chris and Michael. He could just<br>wait for them to come home.  
>"You've already given me proof," said the man. "I know this<br>girl is innocent. There is no need for her to die."  
>Think, Nick. God, what the hell use was his GPA if he couldn't<br>think of a way out of here?  
>"Come out now," said the man. "Three seconds and she<br>dies." He didn't hesitate. "Three . . . Two . . ."  
>"Nick!" Quinn's voice, high and panicked.<br>"Okay!" Nick shoved Adam down and stood, revealing himself.  
>He didn't recognize this guy at all.<br>But he recognized the danger of a gun pointed at Quinn's  
>head.<br>Nick put his hands up to show he was unarmed. "Okay. I'm  
>here. Let her go."<br>Adam. Stay hidden. Please, Adam.  
>"That was easy," said the Guide.<br>Then he pointed the gun straight at Nick's head and pulled  
>the trigger.<p> 


	30. Chapter 30

The gun fired, and Quinn flew back and hit the wooden floor  
>like someone had given her a hard shove. The studio windows<br>exploded outward, but the sound only came to her distantly,  
>as though she were underwater. The overhead lights<br>burst and glass rained down.  
>Time stopped. She felt as if she lay there for a minute. An<br>hour. A day.  
>After a while, she realized she could open her eyes. She turned<br>her head.  
>Glass everywhere, sparkling in the light.<br>She couldn't see Nick.  
>She couldn't breathe.<br>Her ears were ringing and full, and she couldn't seem to move  
>right yet.<br>Where was the man?  
>He'd shot Nick. She'd seen the flash, had seen Nick jerk and<br>fall.  
>She had to run.<br>She had to get to her phone.  
>Her brain was racing, but everything else seemed to be moving<br>in slow motion.  
>Move!<br>She still couldn't breathe. The pressure was intense, as if an  
>elephant had set up shop right on top of her chest. Her vision<br>was turning spotty.  
>Had she been shot? She felt like she'd been dropped into liquid<br>amber, and her world was slowly coming to a crystalline  
>stop.<br>What was happening?  
>And then, without warning, reality snapped back into place.<br>Wind rushed into the studio, chilling her face and making the  
>glass tinkle and drag across the wood.<br>She could move. She could breathe. She could crawl.  
>But no. When she rolled over, trying to get to her hands and<br>knees, her body shook and protested the motion. Every joint  
>hurt. Her head swam. Her skin pricked like she'd been sliced<br>open by a hundred tiny knives.  
>Oh, look. Her arms were bleeding.<br>The lightbulbs. Glass under her palms.  
>Nick.<br>Nick was crumpled on the floor. Not moving.  
>His eyes were closed. Blood had pooled on the hardwood<br>floor, glistening where glass had collected in it.  
>She realized she was screaming his name. Glass sliced into her<br>hands and knees as she scrambled toward him.  
>Then she caught movement from the corner of her eye and<br>flinched, remembering the man.  
>Hide. Hide, Quinn.<br>Her brain wasn't working. Hide where? In the open?  
>But no. It wasn't the man. She didn't see Gareth anywhere.<br>It was Adam. He was making the same slow crawl across the  
>glass-strewn floor that she was. Blood streaked his forearms.<br>His head was bleeding from the temple—what had happened?  
>His face was wet. He was crying.<br>She was yelling. She couldn't move fast enough.  
>Nick.<br>Nick.  
>Nick.<br>He didn't move at all.  
>No. No no no no no no.<br>SECRET 281  
>Adam got to him first. Rolled him onto his back. Nick's arm<br>cracked onto the hardwood floor, lifeless.  
>Adam was crying his name, too. He was pressing his fingers<br>to Nick's neck, struggling to find a pulse. Adam's words came to  
>her in slow motion, and her brain didn't want to process them.<br>He doesn't have a pulse.  
>He's not breathing.<br>Damn it, Nick.  
>The side of Nick's face was soaked in blood. It was already<br>caking in his hair.  
>Oh, Nick. Quinn choked on her sobs.<br>Adam breathed into Nick's mouth.  
>And again.<br>Nothing happened.  
>Nick's voice was echoing in her head, from the night he'd<br>told her their secrets.  
>A gun to the head is a surefire way to kill us.<br>God, now it sounded like a premonition.  
>She'd done this. She should have fought Gareth in the parking<br>lot. She should have screamed a warning. She should have  
>begged Tyler to stay she should have should have should have—<br>"Damn it, Quinn!" shouted Adam. "Snap out of it! Can you  
>get to your phone? He's got a pulse. We need an ambulance."<br>Nick had a headache.  
>He couldn't open his eyes. He kept flashing on waking up in<br>the woods, Gabriel leaning over him.  
>Come on, Nicky, you're scaring me.<br>Air swirled around him, fluttering at his skin, full of pride,  
>seeking his attention.<br>Yes, yes, he thought. I'm alive. Good job. This just really  
>fucking hurts.<br>He knew he'd been shot in the head, but only kind of distantly.  
>Like maybe one day he'd be able to look back on this and<br>say, "Well, the one time I took a bullet to the cerebral cortex . . ."  
>No. That was stupid. If the bullet had gone into his brain, he<br>wouldn't be lying here thinking about it, would he?  
>282 Brigid Kemmerer<br>He felt drunk. He wished he could open his eyes.  
>He wished he could move.<br>He smelled oranges and cloves.  
>Adam.<br>Oh, and Adam was kissing him. This was nice. Breath rushed  
>across his tongue and filled his lungs. Power flared in his chest,<br>finding his blood and sparking through his body.  
>Another breath and he could move.<br>Another breath and he could hear. Quinn's voice. "Come on,  
>Nick. Come on. Please, Nick."<br>She sounded so worried. Didn't she remember their whole  
>conversation about air pressure?<br>Another breath. Wait, this kissing was all wrong. Nick  
>brought his hands up and captured Adam's cheeks.<br>Adam jerked back and swore.  
>Nick opened his eyes and found wide, panicked brown ones<br>gazing down at him.  
>" 'Sup?" said Nick.<br>"Holy shit," Adam whispered.  
>"Holy shit," Quinn echoed. Her bright blue eyes appeared<br>next to Adam's.  
>"It's . . . it's impossible," said Adam.<br>"Nuh-uh," said Nick. He shook his head and the ceiling  
>tilted and spun. "It's physics."<br>"He still needs an ambulance." Adam turned his head to look  
>at Quinn. "Try your phone again. Can you get a signal yet?"<br>"I can't even get the stupid thing to turn on."  
>Nick sucked in a deep breath, buying himself further clarity.<br>It wasn't working. His brain couldn't seem to organize.  
>Adam was still staring down at him. "He shot you. I saw—I<br>saw—there's blood—"  
>"Nothing works," said Quinn. "Whatever that guy did,<br>there's no cell signal, no electricity, no cars on the road—"  
>"Me," said Nick. He winced as reality started to reform,<br>bringing more pain with it. "I did it."  
>"What?" said Adam.<br>SECRET 283  
>"The end of Twilight would have been so much cooler if this<br>had happened in the dance studio, wouldn't it?"  
>"Are you seriously joking right now?"<br>Nick struggled to shift so he could sit up, and his arms found  
>shards of glass. The pain helped his thoughts focus.<br>God, his head hurt.  
>"Easy," said Adam. His voice was still full of mixed emotion,<br>as if panic and wonder battled for space. "Just lie still. Wait for  
>help."<br>"I can't wait," said Nick, more sure now. "I need to tell—  
>need to warn—"<br>"We can't warn anyone. Nothing works," said Quinn. "It's  
>like a bomb went off or something."<br>"A bomb did go off," said Nick. "But without the explosion  
>part. Help me up."<br>He took Adam's outstretched hand and pulled himself to  
>sit up.<br>It wasn't the best idea. He had to grip hard just to stay upright.  
>His stomach rolled and he worried he'd throw up all over<br>the floor.  
>He had no idea how much damage his pressure wave had<br>caused, or at what distance. Had he knocked out power to more  
>than this building? What had Quinn said? No cars on the road?<br>God, he needed his brain to work.  
>"You're bleeding," he said, blinking at Adam.<br>"Most of it's yours."  
>Nick reached toward his temple. "No, there."<br>"Whatever happened knocked me into the wall." Adam  
>glanced left. "Quinn hit the risers." He paused. "You were . . .<br>you were out for a long time."  
>"It didn't hurt that asshole," she said. "He was gone when I<br>woke up."  
>Of course. "Does he know I'm still alive?" said Nick.<br>"We didn't know you were still alive until about two seconds  
>ago," said Quinn. "You had no pulse, Nick. You were . . ."<br>"I'm all right," he said. "I'm okay."  
>284 Brigid Kemmerer<br>But no pulse. If the guy had checked, he would have thought  
>Nick was dead.<br>Hell, looking at the pool of blood on the floor, Nick might  
>not have checked himself.<br>Adam touched his face again, as if trying to reassure himself  
>that Nick was really sitting here talking. His breathing was<br>shaking, just the slightest bit, but his expression was full of resolve.  
>"Why didn't he kill us all?"<br>"He's only after us. Me and my brothers."  
>Damn it, he needed to call home.<br>"The office," he said. "Is there a phone?"  
>"Dead," said Quinn. "We already tried."<br>Dead.  
>Chris and Michael were together, but Gabriel was home<br>alone.  
>Did the Guide know that?<br>Had he gone there first?  
>Nick thought of his connection to his twin brother, the way<br>he always seemed to know what Gabriel was thinking, almost  
>before it happened. When Gabriel had rescued Layne from the<br>barn fire, then run home with a broken hand, Nick had known.  
>His twin brother's panic had woken him from a sound sleep.<br>God, he needed his head to stop hurting.  
>Nick pressed his hands to his temples. One came away sticky<br>and wet. He looked at his palm and found a hand covered in  
>blood.<br>Was he still bleeding?  
>What had happened to the bullet?<br>"Help me up," he said again. "I need—we need—"  
>"You still need an ambulance," Adam said, his voice finding<br>that quiet confidence. "Quinn, I'll run up the road and see if I  
>can find a place with a phone. Keep him still—"<br>"No," said Nick. If there was any chance the Guide was out  
>there, he didn't want them to separate, too. "No."<br>"Yes." Adam put his hands on Nick's shoulders. "I don't care  
>what you want this time. You were—you were—" Now his<br>SECRET 285  
>voice faltered, and he visibly struggled to keep it together.<br>"You're hurt. We'll call the cops, and—"  
>"No." Nick caught his wrists. "We need to get out of here.<br>We need to warn my brothers. He'll shoot them next and they  
>won't—they won't—" Now Nick's voice broke. Gabriel had<br>been able to stop a gun from firing once. Nick had no idea  
>whether he could do it again, especially without Hunter's power<br>helping him focus. Chris and Michael would be on a job, oblivious  
>to a threat sneaking up on them.<br>Nick thought of Chris's voice, the last thing his little brother  
>had said to him.<br>I love you, brother.  
>It sounded so much like a good-bye.<br>Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. This wasn't helping anything.  
>"Help me, Adam." Nick squeezed his hands and heard his<br>voice break again. "Please. Help me."  
>"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll help you."<br>"Me, too, Nick," said Quinn. "Me, too."  
>"Me, three," said a voice, and a shoe crunched on broken<br>glass.  
>They all jumped and scrambled, ready to face a new enemy.<br>But there in the frame of the broken window, looking shaken  
>and frightened himself, stood Tyler.<p> 


	31. Chapter 31

Nick swayed with the motion of Tyler's truck. He leaned  
>against Adam and wished his head would stop aching. At<br>Quinn's insistence that they couldn't drive around town covered  
>in blood, he'd washed his face in the studio bathroom—at least<br>the water worked—but now he was damp and cold and shivering.  
>Shock, probably.<br>Or maybe it had something to do with the agonizing pain  
>he'd felt when he'd pried a bullet fragment out of his own forehead.<br>Adam had found him on the tile floor, and he'd been ready to  
>drag Nick to a hospital again.<br>But now they were in the truck.  
>He didn't trust Tyler. At all.<br>But what choice did he have?  
>Tyler's cell phone didn't work, either. The Guide's car was<br>still in front of the studio, windows blasted out. The trees along  
>the road had been ripped out of the ground and lay across the<br>parking lot, except for a few taller ones that lay across power  
>lines.<br>The Guide was on foot, then. Good, in a way, because it  
>would buy them some time.<br>Tyler had to veer around fallen trees, and every swerve made  
>Nick clench his teeth and grip Adam's hand. The smaller trees<br>and branches, Tyler drove straight over. That was worse. A few  
>cars had run off the road here and there, and sirens wailed in<br>every direction, but they kept driving. Once they got a mile  
>away, trees were standing and they encountered more vehicles,<br>but traffic lights were still nonfunctional.  
>No one was talking.<br>In the silence, Nick could only think of his brothers, and he  
>was going to freak the fuck out if he kept doing that.<br>"What made you come back?" Nick finally asked, making no  
>effort to keep the distrust from his voice.<br>"Quinn," said Tyler. He glanced over at her, sitting curled in  
>the passenger seat. "I realized you were doing it again, pushing<br>me away to see if I'd snap back."  
>"No," she said, "I was pushing you away because you were<br>an asshole."  
>"That, then."<br>And they lapsed back into silence.  
>Gabriel, Nick thought. He wished his brother was with them<br>now. He'd know what to do. He'd take charge and organize a  
>plan. He'd figure out a way to find Michael and Chris, or at<br>least a way to warn them.  
>"They'll be okay," Adam murmured. "We'll find them."<br>Nick looked up to find his eyes, warm and worried and intent  
>on his. "You're taking this well."<br>"Don't worry, I'm sure my brain will explode with wtf any  
>minute."<br>"I'm sorry," Nick said. "I should have—"  
>"Told me?" Adam gave a small laugh, but there wasn't much<br>humor behind it. "You can fill in the blanks later." He paused.  
>"Well, maybe you can fill in one now. How exactly did you do . . .<br>whatever?"  
>"A pressure wave," said Nick. "You ever see an explosion on<br>television, where it blows people back?"  
>"Yeah?"<br>Nick nodded. "Like that. All air pressure. It didn't stop the  
>bullet, but it stopped it enough."<br>Quinn twisted in her seat. "And that blew out the windows?"  
>288 Brigid Kemmerer<br>Nick winced. "Honestly, we're lucky it didn't bring the building  
>down on top of us."<br>"You're lucky you didn't wreck my truck," said Tyler, meeting  
>Nick's eyes in the rearview mirror. "The shock wave ran me<br>off the road."  
>"Yeah, too bad," Nick snapped.<br>"Hey, dickhead, I'm helping you—"  
>"Shut up," said Quinn. Nick shut up, but she was really glaring<br>at Tyler. She was twisted on the seat and jabbing at him.  
>"You don't get to be nasty to him. You don't get to say anything<br>to him. Do you understand me? If you want to talk to Nick, if  
>you want to talk to my friend, the first word out of your mouth<br>better be I and the next words better be am sorry. Otherwise,  
>shut the fuck up and drive."<br>"Don't waste your breath," said Nick bitterly, though he appreciated  
>the sentiment. "He's not sorry."<br>Tyler met his eyes in the rearview mirror again, and Nick expected  
>him to snap back with something vicious, but he held the<br>eye contact for a second, then looked away.  
>He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was<br>rough. "Can you do that again?" he said. "The pressure wave?"  
>Nick hesitated, wondering if there was a trap in the question.<br>"I don't know." He paused and glanced down at Adam's fingers  
>linked with his. "I didn't know I could do it in the first place. It<br>wasn't on purpose—sometimes power takes over when we're in  
>danger, and we can't fully control it." His voice turned sharp<br>and mocking. "Know anything about that, Tyler?"  
>"You covered a lot of ground," Tyler said, ignoring his tone.<br>"At least two miles. Could you do something smaller scale to  
>warn your brothers somehow?"<br>Nick wasn't sure. He thought of his connection to Gabriel  
>again, tried to focus on it, to imagine what his brother was<br>doing right now.  
>Was this a typical twin connection? Or did it have something<br>to do with his element? Did the air know Gabriel, know their  
>bond? All this time, was it just a matter of feeding power into<br>the atmosphere?  
>SECRET 289<br>He had no idea.  
>"Open the windows," he said.<br>Tyler pushed the button, and wind streamed through the  
>truck's cab. Nick listened to the air, threading his power among<br>the currents.  
>Danger, the wind whispered.<br>No kidding, he thought back. But then he paid more attention,  
>focusing on the source of that danger. The clouds overhead<br>were shifting, darkening in the south, promising a storm sometime  
>in the future.<br>A storm. Rain.  
>Chris.<br>But Nick didn't sense Chris's power in the storm. Feeding energy  
>into the wind might get them nowhere.<br>Tyler came to a stop sign at the end of Magothy Beach Road.  
>"Still going to your house?" he said.<br>"Wait," said Nick. "Just wait."  
>They were half a mile from the house now. The air here was<br>calmer: the storm was a few miles off yet.  
>Gabriel, he thought, sending power into the sky.<br>For an instant, nothing.  
>Then he felt it, his brother's presence, like a blazing beacon in<br>his mind.  
>"Fire," said Tyler.<br>"Where?" asked Quinn. Nick didn't sense it, either—but  
>then again, he wasn't a Fire Elemental.<br>And then he felt it, the reason danger rode the wind. It had  
>nothing to do with the storm in the east.<br>And everything to do with the smoke to the west.  
>Quinn spent each moment vacillating between wanting to kill<br>Tyler and wanting to hug him.  
>"Stay in the truck," he snapped, when he parked alongside<br>the woods. She could smell the smoke now, a primal scent that  
>warned her to stay away.<br>But she glared at Tyler and climbed out anyway.  
>"Stay in the truck," Nick agreed. But he wasn't focused on<br>290 Brigid Kemmerer  
>her. He was focused on the woods. She wondered how much he<br>could sense, whether Gabriel was in immediate danger. "This  
>guy isn't messing around. You saw that."<br>"He didn't shoot me in the dance studio," she said. "Didn't  
>you tell me that they don't kill normal people?"<br>"They kill anyone," said Tyler, "if it leads to the greater  
>good. He didn't kill you in the dance studio because you weren't<br>a threat."  
>"Well, I'm not exactly a threat now—"<br>A gun fired in the woods, and Nick and Tyler both jerked her  
>down and against the truck. Adam crouched beside them.<br>"I am not helpless!" she snapped. But her heartbeat was in  
>her ears, blocking other sounds.<br>Nick was practically breathless. Too pale. He'd healed his  
>head wound, but she wondered how much damage he'd really<br>taken. "Can you get to the house?" he said. "Everyone's number  
>is on the wall. Call Michael. Tell him—tell him—"<br>"I'm not leaving you," she said.  
>"Damn it, Quinn, I can't help them all! I need—I want—"<br>Another gunshot. Everyone froze.  
>The wind kicked up, a sudden gust that lifted her hair. The air<br>temperature dropped ten degrees. Nick went paler, if that was  
>possible. "He's hurt. He's hurt. He's—"<br>Another shot.  
>"Go," said Tyler. "If you can get to a phone, call nine-one-one."<br>"We'll go," said Adam. "Come on, Quinn."  
>Then he grabbed her hand and dragged her, not leaving any<br>room for argument.


	32. Chapter 32

The woods blazed with fire, consuming dead leaves and trees  
>and anything it could find to burn. Nick moved beside<br>Tyler, hating that his mortal enemy was going to be at his side  
>when he found his brother's body.<br>Stop thinking like that.  
>But he couldn't sense Gabriel now. The flames were too thick,<br>and smoke clouded the sky, blocking what sunlight crept  
>through.<br>More fire was good, right?  
>Or did it mean that Gabriel had lost all control, and the fire<br>was raging of its own accord?  
>Nick stumbled and lost his footing.<br>Tyler caught his arm and hauled him to his feet.  
>Nick struggled and wrenched his arm away from him. His<br>head still wasn't ready for this much movement, and he hit the  
>ground anyway, landing in burning leaves.<br>"Fine," said Tyler. He took a step closer to Nick and the fire  
>moved away from him, leaving Nick alone, too. "Do it your<br>way. Face this guy while you can barely stand up."  
>"Fuck you," said Nick, despising that he wasn't even strong<br>enough to find his brother on his own. "I don't want your  
>help."<br>Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. Where are you?  
>"He's not dead," said Tyler.<br>"You don't know that."  
>"I do." Tyler reached down and scooped up a handful of fire,<br>letting it burn from nothing, a rolling ball of flame suspended  
>over his palm.<br>Nick stared. He'd seen Gabriel do this hundreds of times. It  
>was unsettling to see the same show of power from Tyler.<br>"Fire likes him," said Tyler. "It likes me, too. He's still alive  
>out here. He's just hiding." He glanced up at Nick. "If I can follow<br>the flames to find him, so can the Guide. He's being smart.  
>Not using his power. Letting the smoke cover him."<br>It was covering him and Tyler, too, and Nick could keep the  
>smoke dense around them. But Gabriel was hurt—the air or<br>their twin connection or whatever had told Nick that much.  
>In a flash, Nick realized that all this panic he was feeling wasn't<br>just his own. Fear bled through the smoke, riding the very air to  
>find Nick's senses.<br>I'll find you, he thought. I'll save you.  
>He remembered playing hide-and-seek with James, and Nick<br>threw power to the wind, opening his senses fully.  
>Seek.<br>In his mind, he saw the land as a grid, the atmosphere stretching  
>around him in a circle, locating people like flashing pinpoints<br>on a map. Him and Tyler. Quinn and Adam, running like  
>hell.<br>The Guide, a flare of power so bright that Nick wondered  
>how the guy had snuck up on them at the dance studio.<br>And Gabriel, a fading light. Not far. Maybe fifty feet straight  
>ahead.<br>Nick's temper flared and the air responded, shifting, moving  
>the smoke. Wind whipped through the trees, bringing debris<br>and flaming sparks to sting his skin.  
>"This way," he said to Tyler, and started walking.<br>Tyler caught his arm. "He has a gun."  
>More wind, blowing harder. It ruffled Nick's hair and fed<br>him power, sending smoke spiraling. "He shot my brother."  
>Then he jerked free.<br>SECRET 293  
>Nick kept his mind focused on the Guide, letting his wind<br>swoop and whirl, remembering his demonstration for Quinn,  
>the way he'd surrounded her with leaves.<br>This time, he did it with fire.  
>He did it carefully, the way he'd done for Quinn, slowly at<br>first, enough power that it wouldn't be noticed right away. But  
>then he sent it spiraling high enough to block forward motion,<br>sending it faster and faster, until he could see it, a near tornado  
>of fire, trapping the Guide inside. At the same time, he drew<br>oxygen into the flames from the inside, choking the man where  
>he stood. Tyler helped, feeding power to the fire, until it was a<br>spinning web of energy and destruction.  
>For an instant, Nick felt a rush of victory. He'd close this<br>knot, collapse the flames. The Guide might not die, but he'd lose  
>consciousness.<br>Then he could die from other things.  
>But then power flared back at him. The tornado began to expand.<br>Nick's tight cone of power loosened, like a skein of yarn  
>being shaken free.<br>"Oh, shit," said Tyler. Nick could feel his struggle to keep the  
>fire where it needed to be—but the air pressure was too strong.<br>In that instant, Nick knew what was happening. The Guide  
>was gathering power, building the same thing Nick had done in<br>the dance studio: a blast of air pressure that would radiate outward.  
>This blast would flatten the woods. It would knock out Nick<br>and Tyler, and possibly kill Gabriel, all in one wave of power.  
>Worse, the outside of this pressure wave would be a wall of<br>fire. Nick had compared the dance studio to a bomb going off—  
>this really would be like a bomb going off. From the strength<br>behind the force, this would be enough to level the neighborhood.  
>Reverse it.<br>Nick's element kicked in before he'd completed the thought,  
>using every ounce of power he had to collapse the air pressure<br>around the Guide. It pulled the spiraling flames in toward his  
>294 Brigid Kemmerer<br>quarry, and he felt the Guide fighting it, scrambling to send  
>power outward.<br>Nick wasn't going to be strong enough. The fire glowed  
>brighter, fed by the oxygen in the air. The circling flames accelerated,<br>ready to pull free of his control.  
>His knees landed in the underbrush as he struggled. His eyes<br>clenched closed. He begged his element for the upper hand, feeling  
>as though he grasped for nothing more than empty fistfuls of<br>air. The spiral loosened further.  
>He was going to lose it.<br>Tyler grabbed his forearms, and his hands were full of burning  
>pain.<br>Nick gasped, and his eyes snapped open.  
>"Do it," Tyler said. "Do it, Nick. You think of every goddamn<br>thing I've ever done to you, and you make this happen."  
>Nick thought of it. He couldn't not think of it, the way<br>Tyler's fingers burned into his skin.  
>Tyler's voice grew louder. "You think of how much you hate<br>me. You think of how I know you're the weakest, most pathetic  
>Merrick."<br>Nick gritted his teeth. Tyler's hands were scalding hot, but  
>the pain didn't steal Nick's clarity, it enhanced his focus. Nick<br>swallowed. He gained an inch with the air. Lightning cracked  
>among the spinning flames.<br>"You know what I thought when Quinn told me you were  
>gay?" said Tyler, his voice low and insidious. "I thought, well,<br>doesn't that fucking figure."  
>Another inch. As soon as he killed this Guide, he was going<br>to kill Tyler.  
>"At least I got to meet your boyfriend," Tyler said. "Now I<br>have someone to mess with when I'm waiting for Quinn. He  
>won't be able to fight me off, but—"<br>With a scream of rage, Nick threw him back. He felt a snap  
>in the air. Anything not tied down went surging forward, toward<br>the Guide. Fire, leaves, underbrush.  
>That included him and Tyler. They hit a tree.<br>SECRET 295  
>Reverse pressure. Nick couldn't breathe. All the fire died as<br>oxygen was sucked from the air. For an instant, he couldn't  
>think, as if time were suspended.<br>Then the pressure gave. Wind exploded from the middle of  
>the woods, blowing leaves and underbrush back out. Twigs and<br>branches caught exposed skin.  
>Nick hit the ground. Then something wet hit him on the<br>cheek.  
>And on the arm.<br>For an instant he couldn't move. Then his limbs decided to  
>work. Nick swiped at his cheek and came away with fingers full<br>of blood. And something thicker.  
>Oh, god.<br>"Holy shit," said Tyler. "You—you blew him up."  
>His voice held the same awed fascination that Nick would<br>expect from his twin.  
>"We," said Nick. He needed to find his brother.<br>Nick ignored the pain in his arms, the speckles of blood decorating  
>his shirt. "Gabriel!" He staggered toward where he'd<br>sensed his brother the first time. "Gabriel!"  
>Nothing.<br>But then Nick saw him, lying motionless among charred  
>leaves. He'd been shot, more than once, from the amount of<br>blood soaking his clothes. His face was darkened with soot. Nick  
>could smell the blood once he got close.<br>But his brother was breathing. He could feel that.  
>Nick got down close to him. "Gabriel." His voice was shaking<br>and he didn't care. "Come on. Gabriel. Open your eyes."  
>Then, to his wonder, Gabriel did. "Nicky." His eyes fell<br>closed again.  
>"Come on. Open your eyes again." Nick patted his brother's<br>pockets, looking for his phone.  
>Dead. Damn it.<br>"Guides," said Gabriel. "I have to find you."  
>"You found me," said Nick. "We got him. You're okay."<br>"Both?" asked Gabriel.  
>Nick frowned. "What?"<br>296 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Hey, douche bag," Tyler called from twenty feet away. "Didn't<br>you say you were shot by a guy?"  
>Nick froze. "Yeah?"<br>"Well, there's a hand here, still wrapped around a gun, if you  
>can believe that. And either the dude who shot you liked a nice<br>French manicure, or the Guide you just killed was a woman."  
>Quinn's lungs were burning by the time they made it up the<br>hill to Nick's house. She'd been inhaling smoke the whole way,  
>but adrenaline was kicking her ass and keeping her going.<br>So was Adam's presence beside her.  
>With every step, she kept seeing Gareth pulling the gun and<br>shooting Nick in the head. It made her want to turn back.  
>Phone, she thought. Get to a phone.<br>The landscaping truck was in the driveway.  
>Quinn almost screamed in relief. Nick's brothers were here!<br>They could help!  
>She didn't even bother knocking, just grabbed the front doorknob<br>and pushed through to the foyer.  
>Her eyes registered everything at once.<br>That Gareth guy wasn't in the woods with Nick and Gabriel.  
>He was here, right here, in the Merrick living room.<br>Michael and Chris were on their knees. Chris was shaking.  
>She could hear his breathing from here.<br>She didn't blame him. Gareth held a gun barrel three inches  
>from his forehead.<br>"Oh, god," she whispered.  
>"Come on in," Gareth said. "If you've come to warn them,<br>you'll see you're too late."  
>Quinn couldn't move. She wished she could tell Adam to get<br>the hell away from the house, before he was seen.  
>"Your friend, too," said the Guide. His voice sharpened.<br>"Now. Or this one dies. Three . . . two—"  
>Adam shoved her through the door, keeping a hand on her<br>shoulder. "We're inside," he said, his voice very careful. "We'll  
>do what you want."<br>SECRET 297  
>"I want you both to sit down," Gareth said evenly. "We<br>won't be here long."  
>"Please," said Quinn. She couldn't look away from Chris's<br>terrified eyes. His breathing had kicked up during Gareth's  
>countdown. The gun didn't waver.<br>All she could think was, Becca, I'm going to watch your  
>boyfriend die.<br>"Please let them go," she said. "They haven't hurt anyone."  
>"Sit," said Gareth.<br>Adam took her hand and dragged her toward the couch. She  
>started to speak again, but he squeezed her hand so tightly that<br>she gasped.  
>Then they sat in silence, listening to nothing but Chris's fractured<br>breathing. So long that she wondered what they were  
>waiting for. So long that Chris's fear began to capture her, too,<br>until tears slipped down her cheeks.  
>"Hey," said Adam softly, talking to the Guide. "He's a kid.<br>Why don't you let him go and put the gun on someone else?"  
>"You think he's just a child? He's a Water Elemental. I let him<br>go, and suddenly I have blood boiling in my veins or frozen eyeballs  
>or anything else he can come up with. Isn't that right,<br>Christopher Merrick?"  
>Chris didn't speak.<br>"He doesn't do that," said Michael.  
>"He should do it now," said Quinn. Her voice was thick with<br>tears, but strong. "If you're going to go out, Chris, you should  
>do it with a bang."<br>Chris shook his head, just a fraction, just enough.  
>"He knows," Gareth said, "I'm supposed to witness evidence<br>of destructive abilities before I kill him. Nicholas and Gabriel  
>demonstrated that last night. You two, however . . ."<br>"Then let us go," said Michael. "We're not going to demonstrate  
>anything."<br>"I bet I can make you show a little something," said Gareth.  
>He cocked the hammer and pointed the gun lower.<br>"No!" she screamed.  
>She didn't know what she expected. Maybe some kind of El-<br>298 Brigid Kemmerer  
>emental show. But Michael moved, shoving Chris hard, pushing<br>him to the ground, shielding him with his body. The gun fired.  
>The bullet missed Chris, but Michael cried out. Blood bloomed<br>on his shirt. A lot.  
>But at least it wasn't his head.<br>The Guide aimed again.  
>Quinn didn't think. She flew off the couch. Her hands slammed<br>into Gareth.  
>For the first time, she was glad she wasn't one of those stickthin<br>twigs who lived on lettuce and water. He wasn't a big guy,  
>and she had the element of surprise. She hit him with the full<br>force of her rage, and he went down.  
>But damn he was strong. She tried to go for his gun, but he<br>was faster.  
>Then Adam was there, adding his strength to hers, pinning<br>Gareth's arm, trying to pry the gun from his fingers.  
>They were going to get the gun. And she was going to shoot<br>this fucker in the forehead and see how he felt about it.  
>But she'd forgotten Gareth wasn't an ordinary human, limited<br>to finite things like strength and leverage.  
>Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. At first she kept fighting, trying<br>to get the gun anyway. But black spots danced in her vision.  
>Her muscles started to cramp. Her fingers couldn't grasp at the<br>steel.  
>Adam was suffering the same thing.<br>She had to let go of the gun. The Guide shoved her to the  
>side. He freed himself from their weight and stood. He aimed at<br>Michael.  
>Quinn needed to move.<br>She needed to stop this. She needed to stop this.  
>She couldn't.<br>She was going to see two people get shot in the head on the  
>same day.<br>Only she didn't think Michael was going to be able to stop  
>this one.<br>The gun was in Gareth's hand.  
>He cocked the hammer.<br>SECRET 299  
>The sound of the gunfire made her jump. Tears sprang to her<br>eyes again.  
>But Michael was still staring, still bleeding, still covering his<br>younger brother.  
>The Guide was on the ground.<br>Quinn stared. Her brain couldn't make sense of it.  
>Gareth was quickly creating his own blossom of red on the<br>beige carpeting of the Merrick living room. He'd been shot in  
>the head.<br>And Tyler was standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand.  
>"There," he said, sounding like he was panting. "Now I don't<br>owe you anything anymore."


	33. Chapter 33

For the second time that day, Nick sat with Adam on the concrete  
>step of his patio.<br>Now, the sun was nearing the horizon, and Quinn was in  
>Adam's bathroom, taking a shower.<br>Six inches of space separated Nick from Adam.  
>It felt like a mile. They'd been sitting in silence for a while.<br>"Are you okay with everything?" Nick finally asked.  
>"I'm not sure okay is the right word." He rubbed at his jaw.<br>"It's a lot. I watched someone die today." He paused. "More  
>than once. And very . . ." He shook his head. "Very violently."<br>Nick nodded.  
>"Your brothers. They'll all heal?" Adam said. "Just like—like<br>you did?"  
>Another nod.<br>Adam's eyes flicked over, dark and shadowed in the moonlight.  
>"Your brother Michael can . . . get rid of the bodies?"<br>"Yeah." Nick didn't correct him to body, singular. He hadn't  
>told Adam exactly what had happened to the Guide in the<br>woods. He wasn't quite ready to deal with that himself. Nick  
>still had no idea who she was or where she'd come from.<br>Or if there were more out there.  
>Hunter and Becca had brought her dad, Bill Chandler, back<br>to the house when they'd called to tell them what had happened.  
>Bill had looked at Gareth's body and had said to Michael,<br>"You all killed Gareth Brody. You might not have wanted a war,  
>kid, but I think you just started one."<br>Adam studied Nick in the darkness, his eyes full of wary uncertainty.  
>Nick wondered if this was the wtf coming home to set<br>up shop.  
>Adam frowned. "And the studio . . . if the police come<br>knocking, you expect me to tell them we left before anything  
>happened? That we had no idea?" His voice was level, even.<br>Nick shifted on the step to look at him. "I don't expect you to  
>do anything, Adam. You don't need to keep my secrets." He<br>sighed, resigned. "I know what I am. I know what happened. If  
>you want to tell the cops everything, I can't stop you."<br>Adam nodded.  
>And that could mean anything.<br>"Okay," Nick said softly. "I don't want—" He hesitated. "I'll  
>leave."<br>He waited for Adam to protest. Adam didn't.  
>Nick stood and opened the sliding door. His voice was rough<br>now. This was a thousand times worse than when they'd been  
>caught by Hunter. "Thanks for taking care of Quinn," he said.<br>Then he didn't wait for a response. He slid the door closed  
>and walked through the apartment to the front door.<br>Follow me. Please. Follow me.  
>Adam didn't. Nick made it up the steps of the apartment building,<br>through the locked front door, and across the parking lot.  
>But when he pressed the button on the car door clicker,<br>Adam's voice stopped him.  
>"Nick. Stop. Wait."<br>Nick turned. Adam was jogging across the stretch of pavement  
>to catch up with him.<br>Nick wasn't sure what he expected. A kiss, a plea to stay, a  
>hug, for god's sake.<br>But Adam stopped and said, "Why didn't you tell me the  
>truth about Tyler?"<br>Nick frowned. "I don't know what you mean."  
>302 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Quinn told me that when you were younger, Tyler used to  
>beat the crap out of you. That Gabriel used to stop him."<br>Oh.  
>Nick leaned against the car and memorized the asphalt. "I<br>didn't lie to you. Tyler is an asshole." But he couldn't say it with  
>the vitriol he usually saved for Tyler Morgan.<br>Adam didn't say anything.  
>Nick glanced up, then quickly away, feeling the weight of Adam's<br>eyes, knowing he needed to offer more of an answer. "I never told  
>you because I was embarrassed." Another hesitation. "And because<br>I didn't want to diminish what had happened to you."  
>"I wish I'd known." Adam hesitated. "And what happens to<br>you doesn't diminish anything that happens to me."  
>"It's fine. It's not a big deal."<br>Adam moved closer, and Nick froze. "It is a big deal. All of  
>this is a big deal. If you're in danger—if someone is threatening<br>you—" He broke off and swore. "Damn it, Nick. If this is going  
>to work, you have to trust me to care about you back."<br>If this is going to work. Nick stared at him.  
>But Adam still looked agitated. "You made it sound like—I<br>thought it was some stupid family rivalry. I yelled at you at the  
>studio, and I would have—I should have told him to get the hell<br>out of there." He put his hands on Nick's face, warm and strong  
>and secure.<br>But then he shook his head. "I'm so pissed that you thought  
>you had to sit there with him."<br>Nick put his hands over Adam's and held them there. "No.  
>I'm glad I had to sit there with him. Because I finally got the<br>chance to tell him off."  
>Honestly, now that they'd come to this point, Nick wondered<br>why he hadn't said something to Tyler years ago.  
>No, he knew why. Because he'd never met anyone who made<br>him feel like he had a right to what he wanted, not just what  
>everyone else expected.<br>"Besides," Nick said. "You were right. People do have different  
>capacities for failure."<br>SECRET 303  
>"And triumph," said Adam. Then he leaned forward and<br>kissed him.  
>He drew back before too long, but not far. His voice was soft.<br>"Can you stay?"  
>Nick wanted nothing more.<br>But he shook his head. "Michael will have a panic attack if  
>I'm not home soon. Too much is up in the air."<br>"Are you in danger?"  
>"We're always in danger."<br>Adam stroked a finger along Nick's cheek. "Can danger wait  
>five minutes?"<br>Nick smiled. "Danger can wait ten."  
>Darkness had claimed the sky by the time Nick made it<br>home. Michael was waiting for him in the living room, re -  
>arranging the furniture to cover a large cut-out portion of carpeting.<br>Nick could hear Chris and Becca and Hunter having a  
>hushed conversation in the kitchen.<br>"I was about ready to send out a search party," Michael said.  
>Nick flung his keys on the side table. The day had been long<br>and terrifying. But now that his family was safe, old worries  
>forced their way back into his head. "I'm fine. They're fine."<br>Michael looked like he was going to start picking, and Nick  
>wanted to head that off at the pass. "What happened to Tyler?"<br>"He helped make sure the woods were clear, offered to help  
>re-carpet the living room, and then he left."<br>Nick scowled. He'd hoped Tyler would be the usual selfish  
>prick he knew him to be. "Wow, that was generous of him."<br>"Sometimes," said Michael, "when a fight has been going on  
>for a long time, it stops being about who's right and who's<br>wrong, and it starts being about who can bury the hatchet  
>first."<br>Nick was too tired for this. "Thanks, Yoda. Wise words, you  
>say." He headed for the stairs.<br>"Hey," Michael called after him. "I'm not just talking about  
>Tyler."<br>304 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Nick didn't pause. "Caught the subtext, Mike. Really understated."<br>Nick expected Michael to say something else, but his older  
>brother moved away from the bottom of the stairs.<br>When Nick made it to the top, Gabriel was leaning against  
>his bedroom door frame. Waiting.<br>Nick had known he would be. He'd known it almost since  
>he'd walked through the front door.<br>His twin looked worn. Tired and drawn. Nick knew the feeling.  
>But Gabriel's bullet wounds had healed. A good night's<br>sleep and some sunlight and he'd probably be good as new.  
>"Hey," Gabriel said. Hesitant, probably for the first time<br>ever.  
>Nick was tempted to blow right past him and slam his door<br>in Gabriel's face. But he stopped. "Hey."  
>"Will you come in? Will you talk to me?"<br>Nick glanced at his own door. "I'm tired."  
>"Nicky." Gabriel's voice was rough. "Nicky, I just—"<br>"Stop," said Nick. He realized he didn't want to listen to this.  
>He didn't want to hear it. He wished he had stayed with Adam,<br>and Michael's worry be damned. He wanted to run to his room  
>and slam the door and never face his twin brother again.<br>No. That wasn't true.  
>Nick stepped up to Gabriel and kept his voice very low. "Save<br>it. Don't apologize. I might have saved your life, but that doesn't  
>mean we're okay. You said in the car that you wished you knew<br>why I was keeping something from you. I guess you got your answer,  
>didn't you?"<br>Gabriel visibly flinched. "Nicky—"  
>"Stop calling me that. Stop talking to me. You can't undo<br>what you did. Ever. Do you understand that?"  
>He didn't wait for an answer but turned for his bedroom. He<br>didn't bother with slamming his door. He just pushed it closed.  
>For half a second, he wished Gabriel would push it open.<br>He didn't.  
>Nick stared at the paneled wood and wondered if what he'd<br>said was true.  
>SECRET 305<br>You can't undo what you did. Ever.  
>He thought of Tyler coming back for Quinn. Or in the woods,<br>grabbing Nick's arms and reminding him of past wrongs, feeding  
>him enough power to stop the Guide.<br>Or later, Tyler with a gun, pulling a trigger to save Michael.  
>Risking his life. Tying himself to their fate.<br>Had that undone the years of torment?  
>Nick wasn't sure.<br>He thought of everyone around him, what they wanted, what  
>they needed. It felt so natural, so comfortable, rearranging what<br>he wanted to fit what he thought they needed.  
>He almost went back into the hallway to listen to his twin<br>brother.  
>But then he stopped. He thought about what he wanted.<br>What he needed.  
>Without hesitation, he went to his desk and pulled out the<br>stack of college envelopes he'd hidden.  
>Then he slid his finger under the first flap and started ripping.<p> 


	34. Chapter 34

Quinn was in French class Wednesday morning when the  
>call from the guidance office came.<br>And just like that, she knew.  
>She'd been living with Adam, and she'd told him it would<br>only be a few days, until her mom dried out. He'd told her she  
>could stay as long as she needed. And the longer she went with<br>a quiet home, a clean shower, and eight hours of sleep, the less  
>she wanted to leave.<br>But she knew that was unrealistic. Adam had one bedroom  
>and one bathroom. He was dating Nick, and she felt like more<br>of a third wheel with them than she had with Chris and Becca.  
>She hadn't heard from Tyler since she'd seen him kill the<br>Guide.  
>She wasn't sure she wanted to talk to him, either, but it hurt<br>that he hadn't reached out to her.  
>And now, walking down empty school hallways, terror settled<br>into her muscles, slowing her pace.  
>They couldn't make her go somewhere, could they? Brittany<br>Asher had been in foster care, and she'd told horror stories  
>around the lunch table about gross foster fathers sneaking into<br>her room in the middle of the night. Or foster mothers whose  
>tempers would rival Quinn's mom's.<br>Quinn stopped in front of the door to the office.  
>She couldn't breathe. Her eyes blurred.<br>She had to run. She could hide.  
>"Quinn?"<br>Quinn swiped a sleeve over her eyes. Becca's mother stood  
>there, signing in for a visit to the office. Quinn almost didn't recognize<br>her in street clothes—the woman practically lived in  
>nursing scrubs.<br>And Quinn was standing here with a running nose and heaving  
>shoulders.<br>Mrs. Chandler abandoned the sign-in book and put her  
>hands on Quinn's shoulders, rubbing gently. "Are you okay,<br>sweetie?"  
>Quinn shook her head. "I don't—I don't—they're going to<br>take me—"  
>Then she couldn't hold it in anymore, and she was crying on<br>Mrs. Chandler's shoulder, clutching at her sturdy form. This  
>was what a mother was supposed to be like: all soft curves and<br>gentle hands and quiet support.  
>"Please don't let them take me somewhere," Quinn said,<br>clinging to any possibility that an adult could fix this. She knew  
>she wasn't making sense, but she couldn't stop begging. "I want<br>to go home. Will you tell them it's okay? Tell them to let me go  
>home. Please—"<br>"You can't go home," Mrs. Chandler said gently. "Not now,  
>Quinn."<br>Quinn cried harder. She couldn't stop shaking. "Please.  
>Please help me."<br>"Oh, I'm going to do that. Calm down now." She stroked  
>Quinn's back. "Let's go inside and talk about it. We're supposed<br>to be doing this with your guidance counselor."  
>Quinn lifted her head. "What?"<br>Mrs. Chandler pulled tissues out of her pocket. "I called to  
>set up the meeting. I just found out about your mother, and your<br>brothers, and what's been going on in that house of yours."  
>Quinn sniffed and swiped at her eyes. "But I didn't—Becca<br>doesn't know—"  
>308 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"Well, she will soon. If I get my way in here, you and your  
>younger brother are going to stay with me until your mother<br>can get into a treatment program."  
>"But—but—"<br>"But nothing, Quinn." Her voice was gentle, but stern. "I've  
>always told you that my door is open to you. We've never had<br>any secrets between us. I wish you'd told me what you were  
>going through."<br>"I'm sorry." Fresh tears welled. "It got—it got out of control  
>so fast—"<br>"I know. I know. Come on, let's go inside and see if we can  
>work something out."<br>Quinn nodded and wiped at her eyes again, scared to let herself  
>feel something like hope.<br>But when Mrs. Chandler pushed at the door to the office,  
>Quinn said, "Wait. If Becca didn't tell you, then how did you<br>know?"  
>"Your friend called me this morning. He said he got my number<br>from Michael Merrick. He wanted to help you, but he wasn't sure  
>how. He sounded pretty upset about what was going on, but he<br>didn't want something bad to happen to you."  
>Quinn's heart was pounding. "My friend? Who?"<br>"Nice young man. Said he knows Becca, too. Tyler Morgan."  
>By Wednesday night, Nick and Gabriel had settled into an<br>uneasy truce.  
>Well, Nick had settled into one. He lived in the house and<br>went through the motions of living with four other guys, but  
>where his twin was concerned, he went out of his way to avoid<br>him. He caught a ride to school from Michael or Hunter. He  
>went to the studio at night to watch Adam and Quinn dance.<br>He studied in his room with the door closed.  
>At first, Gabriel had dogged him, begging for a chance to<br>apologize. Nick had ignored that.  
>Then, true to form, Gabriel had turned antagonistic, mocking<br>his silence. That was even easier to ignore.  
>SECRET 309<br>But tonight, Adam had class and Quinn had texted that she  
>was busy, so Nick was home. He'd been ready for more hassling<br>from his twin, but Gabriel was the one staying out late.  
>Nick wondered if his twin was avoiding him, now, if he'd<br>made it so uncomfortable that Gabriel didn't even want to be in  
>the same house with him.<br>Good.  
>Actually, tonight, Nick was glad for his twin's absence. He<br>found Michael sitting in a dim kitchen, hunched over his laptop.  
>A stack of invoices sat next to him.<br>Nick stopped short. "I can do that."  
>"I know you can," said Michael. "So can I." He looked at<br>Nick, then nodded at the pile of papers in his hands. "What do  
>you have? Something for school?"<br>"Sort of." Nick hesitated. "I need to tell you something. Ask  
>you something. Whatever."<br>Michael uncapped a bottle of water and took a sip. "Shoot."  
>Nick pulled a chair free and eased into it. "My physics<br>teacher said he needs a decision about that semester of math and  
>science at Maryland this spring." The words were rushing out,<br>and he couldn't figure out Michael's expression, so he kept talking.  
>"It's college credit, and they only accept a few students<br>from each high school, but it's also a lot of work. I don't want to  
>take time away from the business, because I know spring is our<br>busiest season."  
>His brother frowned. "Are you asking me if you can do it, or<br>trying to get me to tell you not to?"  
>Nick took a breath. "I have no idea."<br>Michael closed the laptop and pushed it to the side. He  
>leaned in against the table. "Forget the business. What do you<br>want to do?  
>"I can't forget the business, Michael. It's—it's not like it's<br>your side job or something. I'm not going to cut back on my  
>hours if that means the family needs to live on ramen noodles<br>for the entire year." He rolled his eyes. "We might not even  
>make it to spring anyway, so I don't know why I'm even considering<br>this."  
>310 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"The same could be true of anyone on earth, Nick. When the  
>Guides come, they come. We keep doing what we've always<br>done. Not revealing our true abilities."  
>Nick didn't say anything to that. There was a warning there.<br>Michael studied him for a long minute. "Stay here. I want to  
>show you something."<br>He wasn't gone long. When he returned, he had a beat-up  
>white Teflon envelope stuffed with papers. He tossed it on the<br>table in front of Nick.  
>Nick glanced at it, then back up at Michael.<br>"Go ahead. Open it."  
>Nick slid the contents out of the envelope. The papers were<br>wrinkly and a little worn. On top was a college letter addressed  
>to Michael. From five years ago.<br>Welcoming him to LSU.  
>Nick read the next line and snapped his head up. "They offered<br>you a baseball scholarship."  
>Michael shrugged. "I had two offers, actually. Money from a<br>lot of other places, too. The letters are all in there."  
>"But why didn't you . . . why . . ." He didn't even know how<br>to finish that sentence.  
>He knew why.<br>He met Michael's eyes. "Does anyone else know?"  
>"Nope."<br>"I won't tell."  
>"It's not a secret, Nick." Michael paused. "Mom and Dad<br>knew. I'm surprised they didn't have banners made. You'd have  
>thought I won the lottery or something. But when they died,<br>there wasn't any question of what I needed to do."  
>Nick's throat felt tight. He couldn't meet his brother's eyes.<br>Michael put a hand on his arm. "Stop. Look, I didn't show  
>you this to make you feel bad, Nick. I could never have gone off<br>to school and left you guys. This isn't a guilt trip."  
>Nick nodded. But he felt the guilt all the same.<br>"You're a smart kid, and you work your ass off." Michael  
>squeezed his arm. "Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted you to<br>SECRET 311  
>throw away an opportunity. They would have been proud of<br>you, too."  
>Nick made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "Would<br>they have been proud of all of it?"  
>"Yeah, Nick." No hesitation. "They would have been proud<br>of everything you are."  
>Nick swiped at his eyes and looked back at Michael's letters.<br>"Do you regret it?"  
>"Regret? No. Do I think about what ifs?" He shrugged again,<br>then smiled a little ruefully. "Yes. Every spring when I watch  
>Chris play."<br>"What are you going to do with the business, though? If  
>Gabriel and Hunter are going to take the EMT course, and—"<br>"Nick, it's fine. I'll hire some people."  
>He dropped the words so simply that Nick felt like an idiot<br>for not even thinking about it. "You'll—wait. What? You can  
>do that?"<br>Michael leaned back in his chair. "Sure. I'd probably like it. I  
>could do a job with someone who won't give me a load of crap<br>at the dinner table or sneak out of the house."  
>Nick studied him. "You sound like you've been thinking<br>about that for a while."  
>Michael paused, and now he looked a little hesitant. "At dinner,<br>Hannah's father had some thoughts about how I could expand  
>the business . . . maybe do more with it . . . I don't know.<br>It's something to think about. Maybe this college course is a  
>sign." He grimaced. "And honestly, Nick, you'll need all the<br>help you can get. You know we don't have a lot of money for  
>college."<br>"Well," said Nick, "maybe I can help with that." He shoved  
>his original stack of letters across the table.<br>Michael read the first. Then the second.  
>He didn't even get to the third.<br>He was too busy pulling Nick out of his chair to hug him.


	35. Chapter 35

Nick sat in the darkened auditorium, watching auditions,  
>feeling the music as it rolled through the theater. Adam<br>and Quinn had been sitting with him, offering running commentary  
>on every dancer to take the stage. He'd nodded along<br>and pretended to understand half the stuff they gossiped about,  
>but now they were due on stage themselves, and they'd left him<br>out here to watch.  
>He could feel their nerves from here.<br>Nick tried to feed positive energy into the air.  
>A hand grabbed the seat-back next to him, then someone<br>swung into the seat beside him.  
>Nick almost did a double take. Gabriel.<br>It was enough to shock him out of silence. "What the hell are  
>you doing here?"<br>"Shh. People are performing."  
>"You shouldn't be here." Nick's chest felt tight with rage.<br>"This is important. This isn't a joke, Gabriel."  
>"No kidding. Would you calm down?"<br>"Get out. Now." His breath was shaking and the air had  
>dropped a few degrees. That his brother would use this—that<br>Gabriel would show up here—this was—this was—  
>Nick swallowed and tried to keep it together. "If you mess<br>with him—if you screw this up—I swear to god—"  
>"I'm not messing with him. And I know it's important."<br>Gabriel turned away from the stage and met Nick's eyes. "I came  
>here to support my brother's boyfriend. That okay with you?"<br>Silence hung between them for the longest moment.  
>It poked the tiniest hole in Nick's anger. He quickly plugged it<br>up. "I'm not falling for this."  
>Gabriel sighed. "All right. Don't, then." He got up, shifted<br>into the aisle, and started walking toward the exit.  
>No, he moved down a few rows, easing into a new seat.<br>Nick sat there and watched him. He could feel his twin's disappointment,  
>his anguish. He felt it himself.<br>Damn you, Gabriel.  
>He finally sighed and moved down a few rows to sit beside<br>his twin brother.  
>Gabriel offered a wicked smile. "I knew this would get you."<br>"I hate you."  
>The smile vanished. "No. You don't."<br>"I do. A little." Nick faced forward and rubbed at the back of  
>his neck. A girl in pointe shoes was twirling across the stage.<br>"You really hurt me. A lot—a lot more than I thought was possible."  
>"I know. I'm sorry."<br>Nick didn't say anything. He didn't know if he wanted this  
>apology.<br>"I wish I could take it back," Gabriel said. "You have no  
>idea—"<br>"Don't. Don't do this here."  
>Gabriel shut up as if Nick had smacked him. They watched<br>the next routine in tense silence.  
>Then Gabriel leaned in. "I read your text messages."<br>"You what?"  
>Half a dozen people turned around and hushed him.<br>Nick clenched his fists and glared at Gabriel. "What are you  
>talking about? When?"<br>"When you left the phone in the car. At first I just plugged it  
>in to make sure it wasn't busted. But when it powered up, I saw<br>it was on the text chat with Adam, so—"  
>314 Brigid Kemmerer<br>"So you read them?"  
>Gabriel met his eyes and didn't recoil from his anger. "Those<br>things I said—I didn't mean them. I didn't know, Nicky." He  
>winced. "Nick. I didn't know. I never meant to hurt you."<br>Nick didn't say anything to that. Was this enough? It didn't  
>feel like enough.<br>He turned his head and asked the question that had reverberated  
>through his head since the instant he'd felt his twin's fist<br>slam into his face. "How could you, Gabriel?" His whispered  
>voice almost broke. "How could you do what you did?"<br>"I didn't know what was wrong," Gabriel said, his words  
>rushed, as if he worried Nick would cut him off again. "I didn't<br>know your secret. And then—then this complete stranger was  
>apologizing to me, and I knew you were so upset. It was—that<br>night, it was all wrong. I was keyed up from the fight with Tyler.  
>It was a misunderstanding. And then you were fighting me, and<br>I figured out that you had been keeping this huge monumental  
>secret, and I just—I snapped."<br>"That's not good enough." Nick gritted his teeth. "You  
>shouldn't have been fighting him. You shouldn't have put your<br>hands on him."  
>"I know. And I apologized to him."<br>Nick's head was reeling. "What? When?"  
>"This morning, when I called him and asked what time his<br>audition was."  
>Nick stared at him.<br>"I told him not to tell you," Gabriel added. He hesitated. "I  
>didn't think you'd let me come."<br>Nick wouldn't have. He had to clear his throat. "What else  
>did you talk about?"<br>"I asked him why you thought you had to keep this a secret  
>from me."<br>Nick glared at him. "You know why. You showed why."  
>"No." And on this, Gabriel's voice was firm. "I acted like a<br>total shit that night. I apologized for it, and I'll do it a hundred  
>more times if I have to. But you went to a lot of trouble to keep<br>this secret, way before we went to that coffee shop. Jesus, Nick,  
>SECRET 315<br>two weeks ago you and Quinn were making out on the floor of  
>your bedroom."<br>Nick looked away.  
>Gabriel leaned close, and his voice was very quiet. "Please.<br>Please, talk to me."  
>Nick had to swallow. He felt his brother's pain in those<br>words, how much this imposed distance had hurt him. If Nick  
>was being strictly honest with himself, it had hurt him, too. He<br>missed his brother.  
>He kept his voice very low. "What did Adam say?"<br>Gabriel grimaced. "He said I needed to ask you."  
>"I knew you already thought of me as . . . as something<br>lesser. I didn't—"  
>"Nick, you are not—"<br>"Don't. Gabriel, don't."  
>"I have never thought you were lesser, Nick. Never. Do you<br>understand me? Sometimes—sometimes I envy you. Your control—  
>you're stronger than the rest of us."<br>Nick looked at him. "I am not."  
>Gabriel nodded. "You are. Look at what happened in the<br>woods."  
>Nick didn't say anything to that. His eyes fixed on the seat in<br>front of him again.  
>"Nicky—" Gabriel made a frustrated noise. "Nick. If you<br>think you're lesser because of the whole gay thing, that's just insane—"  
>"Is it?" Nick snapped his head around, suddenly furious<br>again. "You made it so easy to tell you all about it."  
>Gabriel flinched. He swallowed. "You're right." He paused.<br>"I was wrong. So wrong."  
>They sat there in silence for the longest time, the air full of<br>music and unspoken thoughts.  
>Finally Nick cut a glance sideways. "I didn't—I didn't trust<br>you not to let me down. That's why I didn't tell you."  
>"And when you took a chance, I blew it." He paused. "You<br>needed me. For the first time, you really needed me."  
>Nick looked at him. "Yeah, Gabriel. I did."<br>316 Brigid Kemmerer  
>Gabriel didn't look away. "I'm sorry." He paused. "Will you<br>give me a chance to make it up to you?"  
>Nick nodded. "Okay."<br>He expected Gabriel to hug him, but his brother whipped out  
>his phone and started texting.<br>Nick watched his fingers fly across the screen. "What are you  
>doing?"<br>"Telling Hunter to get everyone down here. Aren't Adam and  
>Quinn up soon?"<br>"Yes—but they'll never get here in time—"  
>"Sure they will. They're waiting in the back of the auditorium."<br>"Waiting—what?"  
>Gabriel finished his message and looked up. "Oh, you<br>didn't think I was coming alone to support your new  
>boyfriend, did you?"<br>Quinn stood beside Adam and peeked around the corner of  
>the curtain, looking for Nick.<br>She saw the crowd of people and went rigid. "Holy crap,"  
>she whispered. "He brought everyone."<br>Adam was taking long, slow breaths, watching the dancers  
>before them. "Everyone?"<br>"Everyone," she breathed. "I told Becca and her mom not to  
>come. But this . . . this is everyone."<br>All of Nick's brothers. Michael's girlfriend. Layne, and her  
>little brother, Simon. Becca and Hunter. Becca's mother, who'd<br>even brought Quinn's little brother.  
>But not Tyler.<br>Well, of course not. He and the Merricks hadn't magically become  
>friends. Firing a gun didn't erase years of hatred.<br>And it wasn't like Tyler had reached out to her, even after  
>Mrs. Chandler had told Quinn about his phone call.<br>Maybe he saw it as just finishing a good deed and stepping  
>aside.<br>Adam was fidgeting, smoothing the adhesive number against  
>his shirt for the zillionth time.<br>SECRET 317  
>Quinn put her hands over his. "You're amazing. You've got<br>this."  
>"You're amazing," he said back. "Thank you for doing this<br>for me."  
>She lost her smile. "Thank you for believing in me."<br>Then the emcee called his number and their music began.  
>Once the beat caught her, Quinn felt like her world exploded<br>into color. She knew this routine; her muscles had memorized  
>each leap, each turn, each step, but today everything felt new<br>and fresh, as if the music and the crowd added power to their  
>dance.<br>Adam's hands were strong, catching her perfectly each time,  
>and she matched his height, leap for leap. For the first time, she<br>appreciated the power in her body, reveled in the muscles and  
>the curves and the lines. When Adam did the complicated twist<br>where she went airborne before twirling into his arms, the  
>crowd whooped and whistled. When the music and drums<br>reached a crescendo and he spun her so fast she thought she'd  
>take flight, Adam caught her in midair, right on the beat, and<br>froze.  
>Silence, for a second. Then the auditorium erupted in applause.<br>The center judge leaned into her microphone and said,  
>"Thank you."<br>Adam set her on her feet and kissed her on her cheek. "You  
>were amazing."<br>The judge leaned forward again and spoke into the mic. "Excuse  
>me. Miss. One moment, please. Young lady."<br>Adam grabbed her arm. "Quinn. She means you."  
>Quinn stared out into the lights. "Yes?"<br>"Please be sure to have your number on for the solo portion."  
>"Oh! I'm not—I'm not—"<br>"Here it is!" called a male voice from the edge of the stage. A  
>white sticker was in his hand, and he was holding it up to her.<br>"You left it with me, baby girl."  
>"Tyler," she whispered. What had he—what—<br>318 Brigid Kemmerer  
>"Please clear the stage for the next participants," the judge<br>said.  
>Adam grabbed her hand and dragged her down the steps.<br>And sure enough, Tyler was standing there, his hair and eyes  
>glinting from the stage lights. Quinn stared up at him, completely<br>at a loss for what to say.  
>Tyler snorted and dragged her away from Adam, into the<br>darkness of the side aisle. "You with no words," he whispered.  
>"There's a first." He peeled the backing off the adhesive number.<br>"How did you—what did you—"  
>"Well," he said, moving close, pressing the number over her<br>abdomen, letting his fingers linger along her waist. "Remember  
>when you said you weren't the type to have a spare hundred<br>dollars lying around?"  
>She wet her lips. "Yeah."<br>"Well, maybe I am."  
>"You signed me up."<br>"Someone had to." He leaned in, finding her face with his  
>hands, coming close enough to share breath. "And this, I'll let<br>you kiss me for."  
>"This, I don't mind kissing you—"<br>"Shut up," he said.  
>Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.<p> 


	36. Chapter 36

Nick leaned against his back porch railing, holding Adam's  
>hand, keeping him close. A few boxes of pizza and salad<br>were open on the picnic table and candles were lit everywhere.  
>It had been a hastily thrown together celebration party.<br>One full-time scholarship for Adam.  
>One evening-school scholarship for Quinn.<br>It was late, and everyone was tired, so conversation was  
>dying and couples were pairing off.<br>Adam leaned close, until Nick could feel his breath on his  
>neck. "Your family has been nothing but kind to me."<br>"I know. I love them for it." And he did. But this was still  
>new, and fresh, and he was worried that the instant he let go of<br>Adam's hand, it would all unravel. "Honestly, I don't know if  
>it's more surreal that you're on the deck, or that Tyler is."<br>Tyler had kept himself at a distance, as if he felt as uncertain  
>about being here in the open as Nick did.<br>But he treated Quinn with a gentleness that Nick hadn't expected.  
>So when Tyler met Nick's eye and gave him a nod, Nick<br>nodded back.  
>Again, surreal. And not nice, exactly, but . . . okay. Better.<br>Nick shifted closer to Adam, inhaling his scent, grateful for  
>quiet company and a peaceful evening.<br>"Is everything okay with your brother?" Adam asked.  
>Nick nodded. "I think so." He paused, then smiled. "He offered<br>to make out with Hunter if it would prove that he's okay  
>with me being gay."<br>"Hmm," said Adam. "Yeah. I think I need to see proof."  
>"Shut up."<br>"Tell him it has to be shirtless. Wait, let me get my phone out—"  
>Nick shut him up with a kiss.<br>A good kiss. A slow kiss. A long one, because they were in  
>the shadows—but really, he didn't care who caught a glimpse.<br>But then someone did see them, because a wolf whistle split  
>the night. Then another, and Nick broke away, blushing fiercely.<br>"Okay, okay," he said.  
>"Not just okay," Adam whispered, his lips close to Nick's ear.<br>"Great, good, fine."  
>Nick turned his head to pick up where they'd left off. But<br>then something brushed his senses, and the candles suddenly  
>blazed hotter.<br>He straightened, moving to the middle of the porch with his  
>brothers, their eyes searching the darkness for the threat.<br>They didn't have to look far. Calla Dean came walking out of  
>the woods, pink and blond hair glinting in the firelight.<br>"Hello, Merricks," she called, smiling broadly. "I hear you're  
>starting a war."<br>No one moved.  
>She stopped in the grass, looking up at the porch.<br>"Guess what," she said, losing the smile. "I want in."


End file.
